


Sorry for Everything, I Guess

by liquidtime



Series: Sorry for Everything [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bottom Yahaba Shigeru, Enemies to Lovers, Felching, Getting Together, High Sex, Light Angst, M/M, Marijuana, Misunderstandings, Top Kyoutani Kentarou, Underage Drug Use, Volleyball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26589163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidtime/pseuds/liquidtime
Summary: Yahaba buried his head in his pillow. All he could focus on was how good Kyoutani had looked smoking.Well, not good per say, just, you know, more himself than he was at practice. Yahaba wanted to see him like that more. He didn’t want to be someone who aggravated Kyoutani, he wanted to support him and encourage him, but also, maybe, be a person that Kyoutani cared about. He wanted Kyoutani to want to rely on him too.
Relationships: Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru
Series: Sorry for Everything [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2027666
Comments: 24
Kudos: 332
Collections: Finito.





	1. Chapter 1

The Aoba Johsai locker room was loud with the clamor of the men’s volleyball club changing after practice. There were showers running, metallic doors slamming and loud conversations about Saturday night plans shouted across the space and echoing off the walls. 

Yahaba had been surreptitiously eyeing Kyoutani as the boy made his way towards the exit. Ever since Mad Dog returned to the team, Yahaba had been skeptical of his dedication and usefulness. Sure, he was a good spiker, but his recklessness was aggravating and Yahaba was worried that it would cost them more than his worth so he frequently kept a leery watch on Kyoutani.

The Spring National qualifiers were two weeks away and he had heard Oikawa, Iwaizumi and their coaches debating on whether to start with Kyoutani. Yahaba thought Oikawa was crazy for allowing Kyoutani back on the team at such a crucial time, let alone considering him for actual play in a real match, but he wasn’t in any position to be second guessing their captain and senpai. So, he just continued to watch from a distance, keeping mental tabs on the activities of their new wing spiker.

“Hey Kyoutani,” Hanamaki shouted from where he was still changing, towel tucked around his waist, “will you pick up food for all of us before you come over? We’ll text you our orders.”

“Yeah,” Kyoutani called back with a nod and turned to walk out the door.

Yahaba’s brows furrowed.

Iwaizumi, Matsukawa and Hanamaki have spent almost every Saturday night together for as long as Yahaba’s been on the team. Hanamaki’s parents were rarely home, so his house was the perfect location for get-togethers and kickbacks. A couple times a year he would invite the entire volleyball club over, but usually it was just the three of them, which made sense to Yahaba. They were in the same year, on the same team and good friends. It was only natural for them to spend time together. Yahaba had always assumed that Oikawa would be there as well if he didn’t have a girlfriend to entertain.

But a month ago, suddenly, Kyoutani had started joining the third years on their Saturday night excursions. The first time he noticed, Yahaba thought that it was a one-off thing. Maybe Iwaizumi was just trying to make Kyoutani feel welcome back on the team, or maybe it was an intervention about his attitude.

He was surprised when Kyoutani had joined them again the next week, and again the week after that, and again the week after that. Yahaba was both jealous and confused. Nobody on the team seemed to like Kyoutani. Even the third years were wary of him during practice. So how did he manage to worm his way into their friend group outside of it? Why was an invitation extended to him and not any of the other second or first years?

“Careful Yahaba-kun, your face is going to freeze like that,” Oikawa said from beside him, stuffing the last of his volleyball gear into his bag.

Yahaba turned to his captain who was glancing at him curiously. He looked down and fiddled with the hem of his jacket, heat rising to his cheeks. It was embarrassing to be caught staring at Kyoutani, especially with such an obviously displeased look.

“C’mon my little kouhai, what’s up? You know you can tell me anything.”

Oikawa’s voice was sing-songy and annoying and, in that moment, slightly grating to Yahaba. He didn’t particularly want to voice his thoughts, but Yahaba still respected the hell out of Oikawa and as self-centered as his captain acted, he also deeply cared about his team. As it seemed more and more likely that Yahaba would become captain next year, he had started to notice the ways in which Oikawa supported everyone, building Seijoh up to a sum that was magnitudes larger than its parts. If he was asking Yahaba what was up, Yahaba should probably be honest.

“I don’t understand why they hang out with Kyoutani,” he stated, not bothering to mince his words.

Oikawa shrugged. “Why not?”

Yahaba huffed. “He’s an asshole. What do they even do together?” he asked, trying to envision how Kyoutani would interact with them. He was so aggressive all of the time, a stark contrast to the easygoing or calm nature of the seniors.

Oikawa took a moment to really look at him.

“What?” Yahaba asked under the pressure of Oikawa’s scrutiny. 

“They smoke.”

“What?” Yahaba repeated, incredulity woven in his breath.

“They get together on Saturday nights and smoke weed. That’s why I never go, I’m not interested in any of that, but Mad Dog seems the type, so I assume that’s why he got invited.”

Yahaba could feel his jaw hanging open, but lacked the ability to shut it back up. He was stunned. It was a lot to process. Anything revolving drugs had never even crossed his mind. The fact that his senpai’s were smoking regularly was a revelation that shattered his image of who they were in the first place. And now he was learning that Kyoutani was friends with them because of marijuana? 

Maybe Yahaba _was_ the innocent soul his classmates frequently teased him to be. He had always vehemently denied the jabs sent his way, but seeing how naive his perception was had him reeling. 

“It’s not a secret. I’m surprised you didn’t know,” Oikawa said.

“And you’re okay with this?” Yahaba squeaked, trying to keep his tone cool instead of disbelieving, but probably failing terribly

Oikawa snorted. “My first year I tore Makki and Mattsun a new one for coming to practice baked and I wasn’t even captain at the time. Now they save it for Saturday nights. It doesn’t interfere with practice or games, so why should I care?”

He clapped Yahaba’s shoulder. “Lighten up Yahaba-kun, it’s not a big deal. No one is saying you have to be involved. Just stay out of it and let them have their fun.”

Lifting his duffle bag up to settle across his chest, Oikawa started to head out, Iwaizumi catching up to him as he moved through the door, presumably to talk about something team related.

Seeing Iwaizumi suddenly reminded Yahaba that they hadn’t been alone, and he quickly whipped his head around to where Hanamaki and Matsukawa were laughing in the corner, apparently having finished a towel snapping contest before getting dressed. Luckily, it didn’t seem like either of them had taken any notice of Yahaba’s conversation with Oikawa. He didn’t know if he would have been able to survive that embarrassment.

Still, as he gathered the rest of his belongings and zipped up his school bag, he couldn’t stop thinking about what he had just learned. He couldn’t believe that Kyoutani and the third years were smoking, regularly, and he had never known. He knows people who _smoke_. How had he never realized? How had no one ever clued him in? Of course he logically knew that there were students who did that, but he never realized he was so marijuana adjacent. It wasn't just a friend of a friend of an acquaintance, but rather teammates he saw nearly every day.

Even having been told point-blank, it was still hard to imagine.

He watched Matsukawa and Hanamaki for a bit, eyes trailing after them as they finally left, making Yahaba officially the last person there. He double checked everything that needed to be locked up, turned out the lights, and eventually made his way into the cool night air to go home. 

Yahaba couldn’t stop thinking. He felt like he was a daze with a concept he couldn’t quite picture. How was he supposed to focus on anything tonight? How was he supposed to go home and act normal around his parents while he knew his friends were out getting high?

He reached an intersection he would normally turn left at and paused. Hanamaki’s house wasn't too far away… If he just went the other direction, he could take a peek, just look so that he would really _know_. Then maybe this information wouldn’t haunt his mind. He could sate his curiosity and leave the whole thing behind him. 

He debated himself for a minute, but in reality his mind had been made up the moment the thought had crossed him. He went right and made the short trek to Hanamaki’s house.

The building was average sized, painted beige just like every other nondescript home it was nestled between. He knew that the back door was made from glass that provided a clear view through the dining area and into the living room. Hopefully the blinds wouldn’t be drawn and he could just look for a moment and then leave.

He glanced down the street to make sure nobody was watching him before he ducked down the side yard to make his way to the back garden. As he turned the last corner of the house, he could see light pouring out of the door, and made a point to keep to the shrubs and shadows as he made his way around.

Not only were the blinds wide open, but the door was cracked too, just enough so that he could hear voices and laughter. He creeped nearer, finally able to see indoors and spy on his teammates lounging in the living room. The closer he got to the building, the stronger the smell of musky herb that assaulted his nose was. He took pause, inhaling the new scent, nostrils flaring. It was gross.

Kyoutani was sitting at the far end of the couch, leaning forward over a glass contraption on the coffee table. Iwaizumi’s horizontal body took up the rest of the sofa, Hanamaki and Mattsun similarly sprawled out on the floor. Takeout containers were scattered everywhere and the television was switched to some game show, but no one was paying attention to it, all of the seniors focused on Kyoutani.

Yahaba watched him too and jumped when a blue hot flame erupted from, what he could now see was, a blowtorch in his hand. Yahaba’s eyes went wide as he observed the fire lick a glass well that Kyoutani had brought it up to.

_What the fuck is going on?_

Obviously Yahaba wasn’t an encyclopedia of all things weed, but he wasn’t completely clueless. He had been expecting to see them light a joint or blunt and pass that around, not whatever was unfolding in front of him. He could hear the hiss of fire and it unsettled him. Since when were matches and normal lighters not good enough? Did they want to burn the house down?

“Careful Kyoutani,” Matsukawa teased through a grin, “you’re gonna burn your lungs if you keep going.”

Kyoutani glared at the senior which caused Hanamiaki to fall into a fit of giggles. Kyoutani rolled his eyes, shutting off the blowtorch, setting it down, and hovering his hand next to the glass.

“It’s fine,” he said, positioning a metal rod over the well he had just heated. “If I knew you were going to be such assholes about this, I would have just brought my flower.” 

Kyoutani dipped the rod down into the glass, and pressed his mouth against the neck, inhaling as white smoke began to curl its way up the tube. Yahaba felt breathless as he watched, like Kyoutani was sucking the air out of his own lungs as the boy’s chest rose. Kyoutani pulled back, leaning away and collapsing into the sofa, Yahaba enraptured by the way his lips were just barely parted, a full five seconds passing before he exhaled cloud-like plumes into the air.

“Aww,” Hanamaki wailed, pressing his head against Matsukawa’s shoulder, “how they grow up. Baby’s first dab.”

Iwaizumi let out a loud snort at the same time Kyoutani chucked a throw pillow, with amazingly accurate aim, at Hanamaki’s face.

“I don’t even know why I fucking bother with you guys,” Kyounani muttered, sinking further back into the couch.

“It’s because we’re such good role models for you,” Matsukawa stated with a twitch of his lips.

“Yeah, we truly care about the betterment of our kouhai,” Hanamaki tacked on.

Kyoutani couldn’t help but roll his eyes again. “The only person on the team that qualified to be any type of good example is Watari.”

“Not Yahaba?” Iwaizumi asked with a smile.

Yahaba startled hearing his name and leaned closer, desperate not to miss anything.

“You mean Oikawa 2.0?”

“Kyoutani! How rude!” Hanamaki exclaimed, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Yeah, that’s your future captain you’re insulting,” Matsukawa added between giggles.

Yahaba frowned. They weren’t exactly being mean, but they certainly weren’t being nice either. He knew he was listening in on a private conversation, that he had witnessed what he had come here to see and that he should just go home lest he hear something he would regret, but instead he was frozen, hanging onto every word they said. 

Kyoutani tsked. “I don’t think he really cares what my opinion of him is. Besides, I doubt I’ll be on the team next year, so ‘future captain’ doesn’t mean much to me.”

  
This seemed to catch everyone’s attention, including Yahaba’s. He could feel his anger building as Kyoutani’s words washed over him. He knew, _he knew_ that Kyoutani was going to quit again! He had been skeptical of his return in the first place and hearing from Kyoutani’s own mouth that he had plans to ditch further fueled Yahaba’s disdain. He would have to tell Oikawa. They shouldn’t waste time practicing with him if he was going to be gone in half a year. What an absolute asshole.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Iwaizumi asked, shoving a foot against Kyoutani’s leg, “You’re our most powerful spiker. If you would just reign it in you’d be better than me. Why wouldn’t you be on the team?”

Kyoutani glowered at him, Yahaba even shrinking back at the severity of the glare.

“You said it, Yahaba’s going to be captain and we all know he can’t fucking stand me. You really think the first thing he’ll do isn’t kick me off?”

Yahaba’s jaw dropped. Every ounce of rage he had just felt so wholly, drained from his body immediately. He couldn’t believe that Kyoutani would think that. Sure, he thought Oikawa was nuts for allowing Kyoutani back on the team so easily, he thought it was ridiculous that they were considering trusting him to start, but if Kyoutani actually stuck around, played through the spring qualifier matches to still be there for interhigh and continue through next year, Yahaba wouldn’t oust him just because he hates him.

And, he doesn’t _really_ hate him. He’s constantly frustrated by Kyoutani’s lack of respect for their senpai’s, inability to follow directions and lack of awareness on the court, but Yahaba can also see his passion, dedication to the sport (if not to the team) and raw power. Standing next to Kyoutani by the net makes Yahaba want to do better, it makes him train harder.

Of course his senpais inspire him now, but when he daydreams, he thinks of leading the team next year. Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Hanamaki and Matsukawa will have graduated and be out of the picture. _His_ class will be standing side by side fighting to stay in play, Kyoutani included. It’s them that galvanize his improvement.

Yahaba looked down for a moment, taking a second to collect his thoughts. He’s bitched about Kyoutani a lot, especially to Watari and occasionally to Oikawa, making comments about how he shouldn’t be on the team and why did he have to come back? But looking toward the future, he never questioned the fact that he always envisioned Kyoutani on court with him.

If that’s what he thought of next year’s team, he sure hasn’t been doing anything to help guide Seijoh in that direction. Maybe he should work harder to make his actions and words reflect the future he wanted. Maybe he hasn’t been completely fair to Kyoutani since his return.

He looked back up at the scowl Kyoutani was wearing. Suddenly, he looked small to Yahaba, like the couch was swallowing him. Yahaba wanted to run in and reassure him that his position was safe, that as long as he worked hard, next year he would be the ace, but Yahaba couldn’t do that. He wasn’t even supposed to be here, wasn’t supposed to hear this conversation. He was such a creep, eavesdropping and spying.

Iwaizumi had thrown his head back and laughed. “Yahaba doesn’t hate you, he’s just overzealous sometimes. But he sees your potential, just like we all do, and he wants what’s best for the team.”

“Yeah, we’re pretty sure he the opposite of hates you,” Matsukawa adds.

“Always so much _passion_ when you two are together,” Hanamaki whispers dramatically before lifting his voice in a wildly inaccurate impression of Yahaba, “Kyoutani calm down, I need you to focus! I need you, Kyoutani, _I need you_ ! Oh _please_ I need you.”

Hanamaki fell backwards, laughing, Matsukawa quickly following. Iwaizumi at least had the decency to stifle his chuckle with his hand, but Kyoutani’s face had gone bright red and he was looking pointedly anywhere but their faces.

Yahaba could also feel himself blushing, but his slight embarrassment turned to horror when Kyoutani’s skittish eyes fell on his through the glass of the back door.

He startled and fell back, quickly dashing to the side and doing his best to disappear into a bush. He peeked out through the leaves and watched as Kyoutani stood up and walked towards the door, sliding it open and surveying the backyard.

“What is it?” Iwaizumi asked from the inside.

“I thought I saw someone,” Kyoutani responded, still looking out.

“Who?”

“I don’t know, it’s dark. I saw the shape of a face, not a specific person.”

“It was probably just a cat,” Matsukawa said. “Come back inside.”

“Or a dog, _Kyouken,_ ” Hanamaki joked, devolving into laughter at his own words.

Finally Kyoutani turned around and headed back into the house, sliding the door closed all the way and pushing the lock down. Yahaba let out a slow breath. That was a close one. He was lucky not to be recognized. He needed to leave, now.

When it was clear that all of them were reabsorbed in their own conversation and activities, Yahaba slipped by, taking the darkest route around the building possible, until he was safely on the street. He picked up his pace and practically speed walked home.

Once he was safely in his room, after having made his excuses to his parents, he let out a breath, collapsed on his bed and tried to process the past ten minutes.

He groaned. He was going to make a terrible captain next year. A good captain was supposed to lift everyone up and bring out their best and from that, create a cohesive team. The only things he ever said to Kyoutani were harsh criticisms. For as much as Yahaba had called him an asshole, he was feeling like the real one now.

He thought of Kyoutani’s frown when he mentioned Yahaba and was overcome with a wave of guilt. He wished he would have been able to say something, to wipe it away with words of reassurance. 

He shook his head. That wasn’t like him at all. His opinion of Kyoutani had whiplashed from pessimism to optimism with one overheard conversation. Even if he admitted he might have been a bit harsh on Kyoutani, he wasn’t about to start codling him. He didn’t want to be friends with him. He still didn’t particularly like him.

But there had been something _different_ about Kyountani tonight. When he was just around the three third years, without the pressure of practice or school, he seemed more relaxed. He still wore a scowl, was still quick to bite out a retort, but he had seemed less on guard. Comfortable, if Yahaba had to choose a word. He seemed comfortable.

When he had bent over to take a hit…

Yahaba’s mouth went dry at the memory. He felt warm remembering the sight of Kyountani’s lips pressed firmly against the clear glass neck. There was something alluring about seeing the smoke disappear into his mouth only to be exhaled later.

Yahaba buried his head in his pillow, letting out a low groan of disappointment. He should be horrified right now. He had just witnessed his teammates doing something illegal, but all he could focus on was how good Kyoutani had looked smoking.

Well, not _good_ per say, just, you know, more himself than he was at practice. Yahaba wanted to see him like that more. He didn’t want to be someone who aggravated Kyoutani, he wanted to support him and encourage him, but also, maybe, be a person that Kyoutani cared about. He wanted Kyoutani to want to rely on him too.

He groaned. This dichotomy of emotions was too confusing.

Yahaba sat up and reached for his school bag that he had discarded on the floor next to his bed, pulling it into his lap. He shuffled through the contents for some homework and pulled it out. He needed to get his mind off of Kyoutani. It was too early to go to bed, and if he knocked out his assignments now, he would have Sunday free to plan. He needed to think of how he was going to change his behavior and improve their team dynamics.

He paused and grabbed his phone, scrolling through his contacts to send a text message. He should talk to Oikawa on Monday. There was no one who would be better to give him advice on this topic than his captain.

> _To: Oikawa Tooru_
> 
> Would you be free to meet with me after school on Monday? I need some advice…

Oikawa returned his text frighteningly fast.

> _From: Oikawa Tooru_
> 
> Sure thing!! I’ll meet you after your last class!

Yahaba smiled and set his phone to the side, pulling his homework into his lap. His thoughts were still swirling with possibilities, but he felt like he had turned the page to a fresh, blank sheet and he was gonna pen a hell of a novel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a two-shot, but ended up just over 30k. Expect daily updates as I revise the chapters.
> 
> [Tik Tok](https://www.tiktok.com/@sincerelymarika)


	2. Chapter 2

When Monday rolled around, Yahaba found himself passing the 2-B classroom on his way to grab Watari for lunch. It was his regular route and normally he didn’t think twice about it, but as he walked by the door he was struck with the thought that this was Kyoutani’s homeroom. Once he remembered that, he couldn’t help but slow down as he passed an open window, looking in.

He peered over and scanned the seats. Sure enough, in the back corner sat Kyoutani. He was alone, about to begin unwrapping his lunch. It didn’t look like anyone was paying him any mind, and it didn’t look like he was expecting people to join him. Yahaba wondered if this is how he always ate lunch. He had never thought of Kyoutani outside of the context of volleyball. He had never thought about who Kyoutani may be friends with or if he even had any.

Yahaba walked over to the door and leaned his body in. “Kyoutani!” he called, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

Yahaba could feel his heart race as he locked eyes with Kyoutani, who had looked up with a befuddled glare.

“Come have lunch with Watari and me today,” he said with a smile. 

“No,” Kyoutani replied.

“Aw, c’mon,” Yahaba pressed, stepping inside the classroom and walking towards the back desk. He could feel people’s eyes following him. “Please? It’ll be fun.”

Kyoutani’s eyes darted around to the other students who were watching them, obviously uncomfortable at the attention. Yahaba hoped that he could use this to his advantage, that Kyoutani would agree just to be able to leave this classroom and their scrutiny. 

“Why do you want me to eat with you? If you two are trying to rag on me for something volleyball related, save it for practice.”

“We’re not!” Yahaba insisted, resting his palms on the desk and leaning forward. “I just want to have lunch with you. I’ll sit down right here and eat if you don’t want to come with.”

Kyoutani rolled his eyes and took another look around the room. No one was even trying to hide their interest in their conversation, _nosy fucks_. Yahaba watched as Kyoutani’s cheeks pinked at the attention, satisfied as Kyoutani scooped up his lunch and stood to follow him.

They walked down the hall towards Watari’s classroom and found him outside of it, leaning on the wall. He looked up as they approached, eyes raking over Kyoutani who stood just barely behind Yahaba.

“I’m assuming this is why you’re late?” Watari asked.

“Yeah, I invited him to lunch.”

“Okay… Let’s go,” Watari said, turning and starting down the hallway.

Kyoutani figured out pretty quickly that they were headed to the roof. Students were allowed up there during free periods, even though it was rarely taken advantage of. When Yahaba and Watari first came to Seijoh and discovered the area, they had made it a point to have lunch up there, weather allowing, every day since.

Yahaba kept throwing small glances in Kyoutani’s direction, but otherwise didn’t speak.

“So, how’s your day going, Kyoutani?” Watari asked in an obvious attempt to be polite and break the awkward silence that had settled over them. 

“It’s fine.”

They reached the stairwell that led up and outside and took it, Watari leaping two steps at a time. Although the sun was shining bright, the weather was still cold, a slight breeze catching the edge of the building to blow past them. Yahaba shivered briefly, but stepped forward until he reached the little half-wall that they always ate behind.

They took their seats on the floor of the roof and Kyoutani looked around assessing the barren landscape.

“Do you normally eat up here? Just you two?”

Yahaba shook his head, and Watari elaborated, “Others join us sometimes. Akari does frequently, but it's always us at least.”

Kyoutani nodded and then busied himself with his food. Yahaba wasn’t even trying to hide his stare as he watched Kyoutani. His mind was racing as he thought of things he might say, or how he might act different, but he couldn’t actually bring himself to speak or do anything in that moment. So he just watched.

After a few minutes Kyoutani glared up at him and Yahaba felt his breath leave his body again.

“Do you have a problem?” he practically spat at Yahaba.

“Uhm, no?” came Yahaba’s shaky reply.

Watari’s eyes bounced wide between the two of them.

“You literally haven’t stopped watching me this entire time. I don’t know if inviting me here is some joke, or just an opportunity for you to mess with my head, but I don’t fucking appreciate it.”

“It’s not,” Yahaba said, stuttering slightly over his words, taken aback by Kyoutani’s outburst.

He knew that inviting Kyoutani to lunch was out of the blue, but he didn’t have any ulterior motives. He just wanted to get to know him better, to extend the olive branch. He wanted to seem more welcoming and make Kyoutani feel more comfortable on the team. It’s what he was going to ask Oikawa for advice about after school today, but when he had seen Kyoutani alone in the classroom, he couldn’t help but take the opportunity presented. He wanted Kyoutani to no longer think of Yahaba as someone that would immediately kick him out of the volleyball club just for being himself.

Well, he supposed, those were _technically_ ulterior motives, but they weren’t nefarious.

Kyoutani scoffed. “You hate me. Watari doesn’t like me, no offense,” he added at Watari’s shocked expression, “so why the hell do you want to have me tag along to your little lunch party?”

Yahaba looked at Watari for help, but the boy just shrugged and gave him a look that clearly said, _I had nothing to do with this_. 

“I just thought we should get to know each other more,” Yahaba said with a shrug. “And I don’t hate you.”

Kyoutani stared at him so intently Yahaba cast his gaze to the ground.

“You’ve never said a nice thing to me in my life.”

Yahaba gave a small cough of embarrassment and looked back up at Kyoutani. “I think your hair is cool.”

Watari’s jaw dropped and Kyoutani looked part confused, part horrified. 

“ _What?_ " Kyoutani hissed.

“You said I’ve never said anything nice, so I just said something nice. And true! I like your hair, I think it’s cool.”

“You’ve lost it,” Watari mumbled looking curiously at his friend. 

Kyoutani was apparently stunned silent and Yahaba, lacking anything better to do, went back to his lunch.

Eventually the other two followed and another awkward silence enveloped them. Yahaba still stole glances at Kyoutani, but nobody said anything about it.

Soon enough, the period was nearing an end. Gathering their belongings, the three of them headed back to the second year hallway, Watari waving his goodbye as they passed his classroom. Yahaba and Kyoutani didn’t say anything more to each other until it was Kyoutani’s time to break off.

He muttered out a gruff, “goodbye,” which made Yahaba smile.

As he walked away Yahaba called loudly, “see you tomorrow Kyoutani!” grabbing everyone’s attention once more before disappearing into the room one class over. 

*****

Sure enough, Oikawa was waiting for Yahaba by his classroom as he shuffled out at the end of the day. They wound up walking to a nearby cafe, ordering a couple drinks and pastries before getting settled in a table by large, front-facing windows.

“So what’s up?” Oikawa prompted, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Well,” Yahaba shifted awkwardly, unsure about how to start. “It’s about Kyoutani.”

Oikawa smiled and leaned forward, resting his head on his palm that he had propped up on the table.

“Of course.”

“What do you mean of course?” Yahaba asked, defensive. 

“I mean I knew this was either going to be about a girl or about volleyball, and if it were about volleyball it was probably going to be about everyone’s favorite problem child.”

Yahaba pursed his lips and Oikawa grinned and added, “you always get so passionate about him.”

This caused a bright red flush to erupt on Yahaba’s face as he remembered Hanamaki’s teasing pleads about himself to Kyoutani on Saturday. He hadn’t realised at all how his actions around Kyoutani were perceived, and now this was the second time he was hearing an outsider say that he was _passionate_ about the boy. Yahaba didn’t know how to feel about that.

Oikawa’s eyes seemed to light up, and he leaned even further into his own hand.

“Oh, ho, Yahaba! That’s quite a blush you’re sporting. Do tell.”

“It’s nothing like that.”

“Like what?” Oikawa teased.

Yahaba glared at him. “Like what you’re thinking. _Anyway_ ,” he said pointedly, “I overheard,” he sighed. _Spit it out_ , he thought to himself, and collected his courage once more.

“I maybe overheard Kyoutani talking about me and he thinks I hate him and I hate that.”

Oikawa raised a brow, but let him continue.

“He’s so annoying and such a dick, but I don’t… I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.” He paused, looking away and back. “I don’t _like_ him, but he seemed to really think that I would kick him off the team once I’m captain just because. And I wouldn’t do that, so I need to show him that’s not who I am, but I don't know how. So, that’s why I asked you here, because you’re so good with people and with making the team feel like a team, and I really need to make Kyoutani feel like the team is his team too.”

Oikawa sat back and put his palm over his chest. “I’m touched Yahaba.” He smirked. “And also proud.”

Yahaba shrugged and took a small sip of his drink. “I just don’t want to see him all,” he gave a small gesture, “sad again. Not sad like he was sobbing or anything, he was just kind of, so dejected.”

Oikawa shot him a confused look. “Who was he saying all of this to? Mad Dog’s not the type to open up.”

“Uhm.” Yahaba’s blush returned full force again and he couldn’t meet Oikawa’s eyes as he gave his response. “He was talking to Iwaizumi, Hanamaki and Matsukawa.”

Oikawa’s eyebrows shot up. “On Saturday? I don’t remember them interacting that much at practice.”

Yahaba thought he was going to die of embarrassment. He didn’t want Oikawa to find out that he had been spying on their group. He didn’t want anyone to find out, but there wasn’t another explanation he could think of besides the truth. He was loath to admit he had been spying, but digging up information and general perceptiveness was Oikawa’s speciality, it’s why he was so good at relating to people. Of course Yahaba would be sussed out, he should have expected it. 

“It wasn’t at practice, it was afterwards. I just happened to look in on the four of them doing,” he paused and took a breath, practically whispering, “ _you know_.”

“You went over to Hanamaki’s?” Oikawa asked, hardly able to believe what Yahaba was saying.

“Yes, but please don’t tell them, they don’t know I was there. I only wanted to see for myself! I didn’t mean to listen in on their conversation, but they were talking about me and I couldn’t just walk away when Kyoutani was so adamant that I would kick him off the team. I needed to hear why so that I could change-”

Yahaba was cut off by Oikawa’s laughter. It was loud and drew the attention of those nearby. Yahaba could only sit there, waiting for his captain to finish, taking a sip of his tea for something to occupy himself with.

Oikawa finally calmed down and looked over at him with a smile. “Your secret’s safe with me. I just can’t believe you went over there just to watch them smoke. How boring. It’s nothing you’ve never seen at a party before.”

Yahaba wasn’t quite so sure how Oikawa was able to so casually embarrass him, but he shifted again, trying to maintain a calm and cool facade. There was no need to get into the details of his naivety with Oikawa.

But, perceptive as ever, Oikawa quickly caught on to his discomfort. 

“What, you’ve never seen anyone take a hit before?”

Yahaba shook his head. “I don’t exactly go out and party or anything. I don’t really want to.” He shrugged. “It’s just not my scene.”

“That’s okay,” Oikawa said, his voice low and sincere. “So, did you come to any great revelations? Do you feel satisfied having peeped in on your teammates?”

“I guess. It was different than I was expecting. They had a blowtorch, and Kyoutani looked…” Yahaba trailed off with his sentence. What was he going to say? Kyoutani looked calm? Relaxed? Assured? He knew what he thought the other night. _Good_. He had thought Kyoutani looked good.

But he couldn’t say that out loud. Oikawa would take that in the complete wrong direction and probably read way more into it than there actually was. So, he just let the phrase hang there as he stared off into the distance, his mind once more playing through the memories of Saturday as it had already done so many times this past weekend.

Oikawa let the silence envelop them for a few moments longer before speaking and drawing Yahaba back in.

“I think that you reaching out to Kyoutani would be a good start.”

“I invited him to lunch with Watari and me today.”

“Oh? And how did that go?” Oikawa asked.

Yahaba thought for a moment before responding. “It went okay. I told him I liked his hair, and he didn’t punch me. But the whole thing was awkward. It’s obvious he doesn’t like me.”

“You told him you liked his hair.” Oikawa deadpanned.

“Yeah. He said I never said anything nice to him, so I changed that.”

“And the only thing you could think to say was that you like his hair?”

Yahaba shrugged again. He felt like he was doing a lot of that. “Yeah, I mean, it’s true. It looks really good. He pulls it off.”

“Right.”

Oikawa leaned forward again, crossing his arms and setting his elbows on the table.

“What exactly do you want my advice on? You seem to have started the process of wooing little Kyouken already.”

Yahaba blanched. “I’m not wooing him!”

“You’re trying to gain his affections, regardless of if it’s romantic or not. So,” Oikawa pressed on over the objection Yahaba was about to give, “why do you need my help?”

“I just feel awkward. I don’t know what to say or where to start.”

“Let me ask you this: why do you think Kyoutani expects you to kick him off the team?”

Yahaba sat back and took a moment to ponder the question.

“Well,” he started slowly, “because I don’t ever say anything encouraging. I yell at him a lot, not that he doesn’t deserve it when I do, but with the others on the team I try to cheer them on as much as possible when things are going good too. When Kyoutani’s doing well, I’m mostly just hoping that he doesn’t fuck up.

“So,” he continued, working his way to the conclusion as he spoke, “I guess I need to see him and treat him as a good player with faults that need to be worked on instead of a disaster waiting to happen. Even though he is.”

Yahaba frowned as he thought of his lunch period today. “But it’s so awkward. He barely even spoke to me today even though I invited him to sit with Watari and me. I don’t even know what to say to him.”

“Well, maybe instead of trying to suddenly change all of your behavior, you should talk to Kyoutani about it.” Oikawa suggested.

“I did talk to him about it!” Yahaba protested. “I told him that I think we should be friends.”

“I mean actually talk to him about why you want to be friends. You don’t have to mention the eavesdropping, just say that you realize you’ve been unfair to him and you’re trying to start over. Things will probably go more smoothly once he understands your motives, and understands you regret your previous behavior.”

Oikawa glanced at him curiously. “You do regret your behavior, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Yahaba admitted, “otherwise I wouldn’t be trying to change.”

“Well perhaps you should start with an apology then.”

“An apology?”

Oikawa nodded his head. “Yeah.”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Mhmm.”

“I can do that,” Yahaba repeated, mulling over the thought.

A silence settled over them again as they finished off their drinks and food, but instead of the strained awkwardness that had permeated during Yahaba’s lunch, this one was comfortable. Yahaba let himself think of all the ways he could pull off his apology, of all the ways he could change and the possibilities for this week.

He looked over to Oikawa who had been watching him with a fond smile. Oikawa was a pain in the ass, but Yahaba couldn’t have asked for a better captain.

He ducked his head. “Thank you for your advice Oikawa-senpai. It was very helpful.”

Oikawa chuckled at the formality and waved his hand. “It’s no problem Yahaba-kun. I look forward to watching you and Kyouken’s relationship develop.”

Yahaba let the teasing jab roll off of him. “Right.”

They cleared their dishes, and stood up to leave, walking out of the small establishment, and giving each other a wave before parting.

“See you at practice tomorrow!”

“Goodbye Yahaba-kun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tik Tok](https://www.tiktok.com/@sincerelymarika)


	3. Chapter 3

Yahaba had every intention of apologising to Kyoutani the next day during lunch. He had every intention of doing it, but he didn’t. When face to face with the angry scowl of the second year boy, he felt his throat constrict, nerves gripping at his insides. He couldn’t force the words out of his mouth, and instead spent another lunch shrouded in awkward mostly-silence, Watari trying his hardest to force scraps of conversation along.

He couldn’t even bring himself to say anything during practice. At least he stopped yelling at Kyoutani, but instead of replacing insults with encouragement, he mostly just avoided the spiker the best he could. The drills he ran with him were done with minimal words exchanged and the rest of the time he could hardly meet his eyes.

This continued on for the rest of the week.

Everything had seemed so simple after his talk with Oikawa, but when face to face with Kyoutani, he suddenly felt nervous and embarrassed. He would think through an apology a million times in his mind, but when he thought he worked up the courage to speak, words would leave his head and he would just end up glaring at Kyoutani, huffing when he would eventually be asked what his problem was.

He could tell Oikawa noticed, but thankfully the captain let him work through his own cowardice without intervening. He was still getting along with the rest of the team, and for the most part practice was still running smoothly, so for now Yahaba figured he was in the clear. He would have to sort himself out soon though, next week was the Spring National Qualifiers and Oikawa wouldn’t let anything trivial jeopardize their chances.

Saturday rolled around again and Yahaba was once more consumed with his own thoughts as the team changed in the locker room after practice. He was looking forward to the weekend. A blissful, whole day where he wouldn’t have to see Kyoutani, where he wouldn’t have to tamp down the anxiety that had started to consume him when he was around.

Yahaba slowly went through the motions of undressing and redressing, focusing too much on his thoughts. Gradually, people filtered out, but the annoyingly loud forms of Hanamaki and Matsukawa lagged behind as they messed around, Yahaba doing his best to tune them out.

Finally, the two third years were gathering their items and preparing to leave, Iwaizumi waiting for them by the exit. Yahaba had just finished changing, not too far behind.

“Kyoutani!” Hanamaki called, causing Yahaba to jump at the loud voice. “You coming with us or what?” 

For all that he barely let Kyoutani out of his sight, Yahaba hadn't realized that he was still in the locker room, head whipping around to the other corner where Kyoutani was sitting, fully dressed and, for all intents and purposes, looking ready to leave.

Yahaba scoffed to himself, knowing full well where they were about to go and what they were getting up to. It irritated him and he wasn’t sure why. Oikawa had told him not to worry about it, but he just couldn’t let it go. It’s not that he didn’t approve, he didn’t really care about  _ that _ , but he was- 

  
_ Was he jealous? _ he thought to himself. But not jealous that Kyoutani had scored an invite to the third year's proclivities as he had been last week… Instead, he was jealous that the third years got to see a side of Kyoutani that he had never shown to Yahaba. He was jealous that Kyoutani felt comfortable around them, and that he wanted to spend time with them. He never  _ wanted _ to spend time with Yahaba, it was always forced. 

“I’ll catch up,” Kyoutani said, stepping over towards Yahaba and taking a seat on the same bench Yahaba was sitting on, legs straddling either side of the wood. 

“Okay…” Hanamaki responded, slowly walking away, eyes trained on the unusual pair.

Yahaba looked up at him, trying to disguise the surprise that must be written on his face. Kyoutani waited until the third years had left before speaking.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

Yahaba recoiled in surprise. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t the blatant aggression that Kyoutani came across with. This week had been rocky between them, but Yahaba thought he had been doing better.

“What do you mean?”

Kyoutani rolled his eyes. “I know you said you wanted to be friends, but you’ve sure been doing a shit job at showing that. Half the time you’re ignoring me and half the time you’re pulling some bullishit hot and cold act, but mostly cold. And right now I could tell your little snark was meant for me and Hanamaki, so I’d really like to know what your fucking problem is. I actually preferred you constantly bitching at me. At least I knew how to react then.” 

“I’m sorry,” Yahaba blurted, slightly too loud for the room, echoing until a fat silence settled in the air, Kyoutani too shocked to respond. 

Yahaba buried his head in his hands. “Why am I so terrible at this?” he groaned, voice slightly muffled by his fingers.

He looked up at Kyoutani, who still looked taken aback and at a loss for words.

Yahaba took a breath and then pressed on. “I’ve been meaning to say that this entire week. I meant to say it Tuesday, but then I just couldn’t, and then it got harder and harder, and now here we are, and I should have thought of a better way to say it, because this isn’t how I wanted it to go-”

“Yahaba,” Kyoutani said, cutting his rambling off. “What the fuck are you sorry for?”

“For everything? For the rude way I’ve spoken and acted towards you since you’ve come back. For not treating you like a teammate.” He shrugged. “I just assumed that you were going to leave us again, so I didn’t even try to work with you and improve, I just treated you like shit.

“Oh, and I talked about you behind your back. I mean, nothing that I didn’t already say to your face, so… I guess that’s something, but I wasn’t very nice.” Yahaba paused and took a deep breath to center himself. “I’ve been wanting to say sorry the entire week, but every time I thought I was going to, the words seemed to never come out. So, I guess that’s why I've been so weird. I’ve been caught in a limbo between not being a dick, but also not being able to move past that.”

Yahaba finally looked, really looked, at Kyoutani, surprised to find him looking away, the tips of his ears red. He was cute, the aggressive glare he usually wore nowhere to be found.

“So anyway, sorry,” he finished lamely, nudging his knee against Kyoutani’s to get his attention again.

Kyoutani looked up at him and back down again quickly.

“Um, I guess I’m sorry too. For leaving the first time, and also, just,” Kyoutani let out a big sigh and leaned back against the bench so that he was lying down, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m just angry a lot. I’m not stupid, I know I’m difficult to work with, but I just can’t stop myself. I can tell when I’m taking it too far, or when I’m on court and about to steal a ball, it’s like I logically know to chill out, but my ability to care about that logic just,” he gripped his hands together above him and then let them go, allowing his arms to fall by the wayside, “it disappears.”

“It’s okay,” Yahaba said.

Kyoutani sat up, eyes boring into Yahaba’s. “No, it’s not. I really need to work on that.”

“Yeah, you need to work on it but as long as you’re trying, it’s okay. You’ll get there.”

Kyoutani let out a small laugh at that and slumped forward. “This is so weird. Hearing you say that is surreal. What even caused your change of heart?”

“Ahh, I don’t know…” Yahaba replied, trailing off. It was his turn to get embarrassed, not able to help the arm he raised to grip the back of his neck, not looking at Kyoutani as, once more, his mind was assaulted with the images of the boy in front of him from last Saturday night.

“That’s bullshit. You’re easy to read. That’s why riling you up is so much fun, you wear your emotions on your sleeve. Spit it the fuck out.”

Yahaba buried his head again, gripping onto his face to ground himself. 

“Do you promise not to get mad?” he asked.

“No, I don’t promise. Did you do something that would make me mad?”

“I don’t know, but it wasn’t very polite.” Yahaba peaked up at Kyoutani through his fingers, “I’m not going to ruin whatever we’ve started here by telling you something that’ll just anger you.”

Kyoutani rolled his eyes. “I can’t promise not to get mad, but I promise that whatever it is, it won’t stop me from trying to work on this with you in the future.”

Yahaba pressed his eyes into his palms and groaned again, willing himself to have the courage to just spit out the truth.

“Oikawa told me about what you, Hanamaki, Matsukawa and Iwaizumi get up to on Saturdays and I was curious, so I kind of showed up last week and spied on you. And I overheard you saying that you thought I would kick you off the team if I were captain but,” he was finally able to wrench his head out of his grip and look at Kyoutani, “I wouldn’t do that, I swear, and I got to thinking the entire time about how I just wanted to play volleyball with you next year and how I didn’t want to fight anymore so… so here we are. Um, I guess I'm also sorry for eavesdropping on that conversation.”

Whatever Kyoutani had been expecting Yahaba to say, it had apparently not been that, judging by his stunned expression.

“Why didn’t you just ask to come along?”

“What?” Yahaba questioned.

“You said you were curious about what we do on Saturdays, why didn’t you just ask to join us instead of acting like a creep?”

Yahaba scoffed and crossed his arms. “I couldn’t do that. You hated me back then.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t hate you now,” Kyoutani said, and received a punch in the arm for it. 

“Seriously though,” Kyoutani continued, “the seniors like you even more than me, why didn’t you just talk to them?”

“I couldn’t  _ do _ that,” Yahaba said, looking at him like the answer was obvious. “You guys were,” he made a small gesture with his hand, “you know, doing stuff and I couldn’t.. I can’t ask to,” he could feel his cheeks getting warm again, and no matter how much he repeated the mantra  _ keep cool _ in his head, he couldn’t help but project his awkwardness outwards.

“That’s just not my image,” he concluded, thoroughly embarrassed.

Kyoutani laughed. “You’re so fucking prissy. Who cares about image? Smoke if you want to, don’t if you don’t.” He looked over at Yahaba, smirking at his embarrassment. “Do you want to come tonight?”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Yahaba replied, but his voice sounded hesitant even to himself, like he was trying to convince his own mind of the words he was speaking.

“Why not? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want. You could just observe and figure out whether it’s something you want to try.”

Yahaba still looked slightly averse, but he wasn’t outright refusing. 

“C’mon Yahaba, what’s a better first step to our budding friendship than getting high together, or at least watching me get high if you decide not to.”

“I’ve already watched you. Last Saturday, you looked-”

He cut himself off quickly. He knew by now what adjective followed that thought and he couldn’t think of anything that would top off his sundae of embarrassment better than telling Kyoutani that he had looked  _ good _ .

But unlike Oikawa, Kyoutani was not content to let the sentence die in the air.

“What? I looked what?”

“You looked, I don’t know, like you knew what you were doing.”

Kyoutani snorted. “You’re so full of shit. That was my first time hitting a dab, I usually just use a pipe.”

He stood up and clapped Yahaba on the shoulder. “C’mon, let’s go. It’ll be good for you to get out and experience something, even if you just hang out with us and do nothing more. If for some reason you completely freak out, you can leave at any time.”

Yahaba swung his leg over the bench and stood up. “Okay,” he said with as much conviction as he could muster. “Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm impatient, so two today. ofc, next chapter will be out tomorrow.
> 
> [Tik Tok](https://www.tiktok.com/@sincerelymarika)


	4. Chapter 4

Kyoutani didn’t bother knocking, just grabbed the door handle to Hanamaki’s place and swung it open, calling out as he stepped over the threshold with Yahaba in tow. 

Yahaba glanced around the entryway as he slipped out of his shoes. It hadn’t changed much since he had been over last, still clean and sparsely decorated with only a few family photos hanging on the wall. As he walked further in, entering the living room, he got a sense of deja vu from last week as the three third years were spread out in similar positions, only this time he was on the inside instead of in the backyard.

All of their eyes were on him, and Yahaba had never felt quite so out of place among people he normally considered friends. Hanamaki and Matsukawa wore twin expressions of shock, and Iwazumi glanced questioningly at Kyoutani after he took notice of Yahaba.

“He’s hanging with us tonight,” Kyoutani said with a shrug, heading over to the couch and shoving Iwaizumi’s legs out of the way so that he could take the middle cushion.

He looked up at Yahaba and gestured to the empty space next to him. Yahaba walked over, trying to tell his stiff limbs to relax, but as he sat he could tell that his back was too straight, his face too pinched. He knew he looked as out of place as he felt.

“Yahaba-kun, _relax_ ,” Matsukawa said with a grin, leaning back on the floor and letting his head loll onto his shoulder. “We have plenty to help with that if you need.”

Hanamaki devolved into laughter beside him, but sat back up and rested an arm against the coffee table. “What the hell did our little Kyouken say to get you to tag along? Wagging after him like a lost puppy is quite the role reversal.”

Yahaba glared and put as much snark and confidence into his next words as he could muster. “I’m not wagging after him. He asked me if I wanted to hang out tonight and I said yes because I like spending time with my friends.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa started laughing again and even Iwaizumi let out a snort.

“Since when are you and Kyoutani friends?” Hanamaki asked.

“Jesus, you have no filter,” Kyoutani snapped at him, saving Yahaba from having to fumble out a response. 

“Don’t listen to them,” Iwaizumi said, finally piping in. “If you want to be here, you’re totally welcome, I think they just want to make sure you’re actually comfortable.”

“I am,” Yahaba said, aware that he probably looked anything but.

Kyoutani bumped his knee lightly into Yahaba’s, catching his attention and giving him the smallest of nods. Yahaba offered a small smile in return, feeling a bit comforted by his presence, and forced himself to sink back into the sofa. There was a whole side of him that wanted to get up, leave and forget he was ever here, but the larger and louder half was captivated by the scene before him, attracted to the taboo nature of their activities.

Yahaba watched as Kyoutani reached into a side pocket of his bag and pulled out a dark blue glass pipe and a mini mason jar filled with greenish-brown nuggets. He knew he shouldn’t say anything, but he couldn’t help but ask, “you carry that around with you in school all day? What if you get caught?”

Kyoutani glanced over at him. “Normally I don’t. I go home before coming over, but I knew I was going to talk with you after practice today and I didn’t know how long we would be, so I took everything with me this morning.”

“What did you two talk about?” Hanamaki asked, smirking.

“The future of our volleyball team, will you shut the fuck up?” Kyoutani growled out. “Stop being nosy.”

“Oh? But we want to know about the future of our team,” Hanamaki whined.

“If I remember correctly, you weren’t so sure of your own future with the Seijoh, now you’re discussing the whole team with our future captain? Forgive us for being a little curious,” Matsukawa said through a grin.

Yahaba could tell they were teasing, but he could also sense the increasing frustration in the man beside him. After their heart to heart it was only natural that Kyoutani would be a bit touchy on the subject. He knocked his knee into Kyoutani’s this time, apparently solidifying that as some sort of nonverbal communication of comfort between the two of them. 

“Of course he’s going to be on the team next year,” Yahaba said, raising a brow at Matsukawa. “What, you think Kunimi is going to surpass him as ace? I love that kid, but he has nothing on Kyoutani. Kyoutani is the best spiker we have.”

Everyone in the room looked stunned, even Kyoutani has frozen up beside him, understandably so. That was the first time Yahaba had ever come to his defense at all, let alone spoken so positively about him while doing so. It caught everyone slightly off guard, even Yahaba himself. 

But none of it was false. Kyoutani may have attitude problems galore, but no one else on the team could deliver a spike anywhere near as brutal as he could. Once they lost Oikawa’s serve, Kyoutani would be the best offensive tool in their arsenal. 

“Ahh, Yahaba, don’t count your senpais out yet. We’re still around, Iwaizumi is the best spiker we have right now,” Hanamaki said with a smile and turned towards Kyoutani, “we say that with all the love Kyouken, you’ll get there.”

_Well_ , Yahaba thought before speaking, _fuck it._

“No offense senpai, but Kyoutani comes out on top even with the two of you on the team. I would choose to start with him any day.”

It was a half truth. Nothing could beat the insane connection that Oikawa and Iwaizumi had together on the court. The two of them were the backbone of Seijoh’s current success and replacing them and their experience willingly would be suicide. But if Yahaba were the one setting, he was admittedly much more accustomed to Kyoutani than either Iwaizumi or Hanamaki. He had practiced with him the most of anyone recently, and right now he needed Kyoutani’s power to make up for what his sets lacked in precision.

As this new truth settled over him, Yahaba marveled at how far his opinion of Kyoutani had evolved this past week. He had gone from wishing Kyoutani had never come back to the team, to desperately craving his presence beside him.

“Don’t say stupid things, Yahaba,” Kyoutani muttered.

Yahaba could see his ears go red again and he let a satisfied smirk grace his face.

“Spoken with so much _passion_ ,” Hanamaki said with a wiggle of his brows.

Yahaba rolled his eyes. If one more person made a comment about passion to him, he was going to lose it.

Instead of retorting, he went back to watching Kyoutani who had grabbed a grinder that had been left open on the table, packing the top with a nug he had extracted from his jar. He placed the lid back on, fingers gripping the edge of the metal, and twisted the cap.

“What do you got there?” Iwaizumi asked.

“White Widow,” Kyoutani answered, taking the cap off and pulling the crushed flower from between the spokes, packing it lightly into his pipe.

Yahaba focused on keeping his breath even, trying to look casually interested in what Kyoutani was doing as he brought the glass and the lighter to his lips. He could hear the scratchy click of the flame, watched as Kyoutani lowered it to the bowl and took a long drag. This scene looked more familiar than whatever he had witnessed last week, but Yahaba had still never seen anyone smoke up close before. He felt weird, oddly nervous but also exhilarated.

Kyoutani pulled away and exhaled after a pause, letting out a single, small cough. The familiar acrid smell assaulted Yahaba’s nostrils. It had been hanging faintly in the air ever since they arrived, but now it was prominently embedded in his head as he inhaled the second hand smoke.

Matsukawa held out his hands, leaning forward towards Kyoutani. “C’mon, share,” he whined, grinning when Kyoutani passed him the pipe and lighter over the coffee table.

It should have been just as fascinating to watch Matsukawa, but Yahaba couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way Kyoutani relaxed back against the couch, snuggling into the cushions. The way he shifted brought the length of his thigh in contact with Yahaba’s and Yahaba thought he was about to combust. His leg felt like it was on fire, like he had a keen awareness of Kyoutani’s body in relation to his own. He wondered if Kyoutani felt it too. He hoped he did.

He supposed that perceptiveness could be useful on the court. Maybe they’ve already started to reap the rewards of this newfound friendship.

Matsukawa finished and held the pipe up in an unspoken question to Kyoutani, but he just shook his head. Matsukawa made to discard it on the coffee table, but in the process caught Yahaba’s eye. He gave a sly grin and Yahaba knew the question was coming before he had even started.

“Yahaba-kun, do you want some? Kyoutani always brings good stuff.”

Yahaba could practically feel Kyoutani roll his eyes from beside him.

His breath caught. Even though he was anticipating that question, indecision still wracked his mind. He knew everyone here was expecting him to say no and he wanted to push back against his innocent image, but he was also nervous. Mostly, he didn’t want to look like a fool. He didn’t have any clue what he was doing and there was no ‘fake it until you make it’ in this situation. 

He could just refuse. As much as his senpais liked to tease, if he declined, he knew no one would pressure him further. The question was, would he regret not trying? This was probably the only Saturday night rendezvous that he would be invited to, so this was pretty much his one chance to live a little bit and get some cliche high school experience under his belt. 

“You’re overthinking it,” Kyoutani said from beside him. “You can take a hit now, or later, or never. Just do what you _want_ to do.”

Yahaba looked over to him, and as his eyes met a stoic scowl, he realized he felt comfortable enough to share this new experience with Kyoutani. 

He gave a single nod. “I want to.”

Hanamaki howled from the ground and Iwaizumi tilted forward so he could look at Yahaba and ask, “are you sure?”

It was Yahaba’s turn to roll his eyes. “If you think you have the power to pressure me into a decision I regret, you’re giving yourself too much credit.”

Kyoutani snorted and looked at Yahaba with an expression akin to pride and Yahaba felt himself preen under it. 

Matsukawa slid the pipe across the coffee table and Kyoutani leaned forward to grab it. He looked down and frowned.

“Real nice Matsukawa, just light the entire bowl.”

Matsukawa grinned sheepishly. “It’s still good for another hit.”

“Not for his first time, he should have fresh herb,” Kyoutani grumbled as he dumped out the burned green onto the table.

“So considerate,” Hanamaki remarked.

“More like wasteful,” Matsukawa added.

Kyoutani repeated the process of breaking off a piece of nug, grinding it and lightly packing it. Yahaba memorised the way his fingers worked, eyes never straying from the movement of his hands throughout the process.

As Kyoutani finished, he slid off the couch so that he was facing Yahaba, kneeling, pipe in hand. Yahaba scooted forward so that he was sitting on the edge of his cushion, leaning slightly towards Kyoutani who brought the pipe up, elbow leaning lightly on Yahaba’s knee to steady his arm. Yahaba looked over the pipe and into Kyoutani’s eyes, sure that his apprehension was reading clearly. The corners of Kyoutani’s mouth flicked up, only for a moment, in a sign of reassurance and Yahaba took a settling breath.

“Okay, so press your lips against here, obviously,” Kyoutani began to instruct, his index finger pointing to the opening for his mouth before trailing down the neck of the pipe as he spoke. “Normally, you would hold the base, covering this hole on the side, but I’ll help out this time. So grab here,” Kyoutani said, allowing Yahaba’s finger to wind around the outside of the bowl where he had indicated.

Kyoutani’s hand shifted to that it was cradling Yahaba’s, thumb pressed against the carb. Yahaba could feel his blood pressure spike at the contact, becoming fully aware of how intimate this position was. He forgot about everyone else in the room and just focused on the words Kyoutani was speaking and the feel of his fingers against his skin. 

“So, I’ll light the bowl, and you just inhale, smokes gonna fill this chamber,” he ran his pinky back up the neck of the pipe, mesmerising, “and I’ll remove my thumb, which will let air in to clean it out and let you get the full hit.”

Yahaba nodded and Kyoutani smiled, a real smile.

“Once you inhale, no worries if you just need to cough.”

“Okay.”

“You ready?”

“Ready.”

Yahaba leaned forward and let his lips touch the glass. It wasn’t warm or cool, just there. He felt a bit stupid as he waited for Kyoutani to lift the lighter up, flicking at it to produce a flame. Kyoutani lowered it to the bowl, fire licking at the corner of the dried leaves and Yahaba began a slow inhale, tasting dryness and spice.

With a _click_ the lighter was off and Kyoutani was pulling his thumb away, the smoke swirling into Yahaba’s lungs. He tried to hold the inhale, but the scratchy feel of his throat was too much and he almost immediately coughed, the billowing haze of his breath pushed right into Kyoutani’s face.

He curled in on himself, bringing his free fist up to cover his mouth as he expelled the rest of his inhale. He could hear Hanamaki and Matsukawa laughing in the background, but all he could think of was how dead he probably was after coughing directly in Kyoutani’s face.

His cheeks were red with embarrassment and his eyes were watery. He probably looked a complete mess and total fool, everything he _didn’t_ want, but he forced himself to glance up at Kyoutani who was still leaning in front of him, pipe in one hand, still cradling Yahaba’s palm, the other dropped on Yahaba’s knee where he now noticed Kyoutani’s thumb rubbing soothingly back and forth.

“I’m sorry,” Yahaba said, sitting back up. Talking made him want to cough again, but he resisted. “I didn’t mean to cough right in your face.”

“It’s okay. I was expecting it.”

“Again?” Yahaba asked.

Kyoutani smirked. “You might want to wait and see how this hits you. It has a pretty high THC content.”

“Yeah, but I can do it better this time, now I know what to expect.”

Kyoutani gave a humorous exhale. “Sure. Let me cherry this for you first.”

Yahaba had no clue what he meant, but let Kyoutani pull the pipe away, Yahaba’s hand leaving the warmth of his grasp as he did so. Yahaba was once more mesmerised by Kyoutani as he lifted the pipe up to his own lips, carefully lighting another corner of the bowl and inhaling. Smoke curled through the chamber, Yahaba’s eyes tracing it’s progress until he stopped at Kyoutani’s lips which were touching the same spot Yahaba’s had been. 

The smoke whisked into his mouth. Yahaba half expected Kyoutani to blow it back in his face as revenge, but instead, after a few moments, he looked off to the side and exhaled through the small part in his lips.

He looked back up at Yahaba and held the pipe out, placing Yahabas hand into position. “Remember, thumb over the hole. This time you’ll take it away. You can just inhale now, it’s already lit.”

Yahaba brought the pipe up to his mouth, this time without Kyoutani’s hand to guide him. He missed the steadying grip, but instead got Kyoutani’s fingers laced together over his knee which was pleasant and distracting. He pushed that sensation from his mind as he refocused to once more press the glass against his lips and inhale, bracing himself for the inevitable burn.

He locked eyes with Kyoutani as he released his finger and filled his chest with smoke, pleased at the slightly stunned expression Kyoutani was wearing.

There was still an uncomfortable itch at the back of his throat, but he was able to actually control his exhale, turning away from Kyoutani and Iwaizumi as he blew out. He started coughing again, a little puff of white expelled at the first one. 

Kyoutani gently took the pipe from him as he continued to cough and passed it over to Iwaizumi who seemed to take a final two hits off of it before setting it down on the coffee table. Yahaba simply coughed again, still feeling the dryness of his throat.

“Let me get you some water,” Kyoutani said, standing up and wandering off in the direction of the kitchen. 

Without Kyoutani in front of him, Yahaba was exposed to the curious glances of his other teammates. He shrunk back feeling as if he were under a microscope.

“Feeling good Yahaba-kun?” Hanamaki asked with a grin.

He shrugged. “I don’t know, I don’t really feel much of anything.”

“Give it a few minutes.”

Kyoutani quickly returned, a large glass of water in his hand. Instead of sitting beside Yahaba on the sofa, Kyoutani knelt in front of him again and held the cup out, his other hand back on Yahaba’s knee. Yahaba wondered if he was even aware of the contact, the simple gesture feeling so much more intimate than it should.

Yahaba leaned forward to take the water, and suddenly felt a bit light-headed. “Woah,” he muttered, pausing to orient his mind and giving out a single cough.

“Here,” Kyoutani pressed the glass into his hand, and Yahaba quickly sipped at the cool liquid, throat appreciative of the relief.

“Thank you,” Yahaba said, passing the cup back to Kyoutani who set it on the coffee table, joining the other paraphernalia scattered around.

There was a faint sound trickling from the TV speakers and Hanamaki had begun loudly talking with Matsukawa again, but the noise sounded muffled and far away to Yahaba, who’s gaze was locked with Kyoutani. He had no attention to spare for anything or anyone else other than those deep-set eyes and the press of Kyoutani’s palm against his knee.

It was weird having Kyoutani kneeling in front of him, comforting him and being kind. It was so unlike all of his previous interactions with him and Yahaba was thrilled that he was finally getting to experience a taste of the Kyoutani he had seen relaxed and happy a week ago. His chest tightened at the thought that this might be the Kyoutani he’s able to see for forever. Maybe they’ve moved past all the petty fighting bullshit.

Yahaba’s breathing slowed down and his limbs felt heavy. The world began to tilt. Yahaba couldn’t help but smile as he let his head relax, beginning to tilt forward with no sense of balance. 

“I’m tired,” Iwaizumi declared, swinging his legs over to stand up, the sudden movement startling Yahaba. “C’mon Mattsun, Makki, help me set up the bed rolls in your room.”

“What?” Hanamaki protested, “but it’s still so early! Do it yourself.”

“No, you two are coming with me, now,” Iwaizumi said as he walked over to where the duo sat, nudging them up.

“Do you need more help Iwaizumi-senpai?” Yahaba asked.

“No, you and Kyoutani can fight over the couch, we’re going up to Makki’s room, and staying there for the night.”  
  


“Awh, so rough, Iwaizumi,” Hanamaki whined as Matsukawa and him were steered towards the staircase that led up to the bedrooms.

“Yeah, we’re no Oikawa, we can walk ourselves,” Matsukawa added, shrugging Iwaizumi off and continuing forward.

“Then move it.”

Yahaba watched the commotion the three of them made as they loudly climbed the steps, Hanamaki and Matsukawa complaining the entire time. When they were out of sight, he turned back to Kyoutani, who was looking down at where his hands were resting. Yahaba felt the weight of his palms, every press of his fingertips, and smiled at the sensation. He really didn’t want Kyoutani to move or to leave. Without the seniors there, the intensity of Kyoutani’s presence was magnified.

“You still okay?” Kyoutani asked.

Yahaba’s attention couldn’t focus anywhere other than Kyoutani’s lips as he spoke. He could practically see every letter as it formed and he was mesmerized by the shapes his mouth would make. He wanted to reach out and trace them when Kyoutani talked, so he could feel the words he was saying, but he didn’t because he knew that was weird. Kyoutani had been so nice to him so far, he didn’t want to put that in jeopardy by doing something stupid and making him mad. 

So he just sighed and said, “say it again?”

Kyoutani scowled. “What? You still okay?”

His lips were just as lustrous as before and this time Yahaba did reach out, but instead of bringing his fingertips to Kyoutani’s mouth, he reached up to his brow and tried to smooth the furrowed skin.

“You’re not supposed to be angry with me anymore,” Yahaba sighed, thumb mashing into Kyoutani’s forehead.

Yahaba was becoming aware that he was feeling different: his head light and buzzed but his body heavy and relaxed, like the hazy vibrations under his skin were soothing him. It didn’t hit him all at once. Instead, it felt like he was slowly succumbing to these placid sensations. The urge to talk spilled from his lips, he couldn’t help the words tumbling from his mouth as he began to voice his inner monologue.

“You’re actually really attractive without that frown. A while ago I heard some girls in my class talking about you, but I told them that you had the personality of a dog and that they should stay away. I guess I can’t say that now that we’re friends. I should be your wingman. I could talk to them for you,” he leaned forward so that his face was inches away from Kyoutani’s and dropped his hand. “Would you like that?”

Kyoutani’s gaze dropped for only a fraction of a second before looking back up to meet Yahaba’s. “No,” he replied, holding their eye contact.

  
Yahaba could feel the puff of his breath against his skin. He closed his eyes and leaned forward, forehead knocking against Kyoutani’s a bit harder than he had intended as they inevitably collided.

“Fuck, I think I’m feeling it,” Yahaba stated as the fog in his mind intensified.

He could hear Kyoutani chuckle, and then the boy was pulling away which was the last thing that he wanted.

“Nooo,” he muttered, eyes still shut, reaching out in front of him blindly.

“Chill, I’m just sitting down,” and sure enough, Kyourani collapsed onto the cushion next to him, snagging the remote in the process. “Do you want to choose something to watch?”

Yahaba finally pried his eyelids open. The TV was playing the same channel it had been last Saturday, the bright colors of another bad reality competition flickering in front of him. There was too much text and even through the volume was low, too much shouting for Yahaba to understand what was happening. He cocked his head and tried to focus more, but to no avail.

“Honestly Kyoutani, I don’t think I’m going to understand anything that you put on, so my opinion shouldn’t really matter.” He shut his eyes once more, mouth rambling on. “Not that it does anyway. I mean, my opinion matters in general, just not to you.”

“Your opinion matters to me, dumbass, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

Yahaba scoffed and then turned so that his back was pressed against the arm of the couch, his legs curling into the cushion, finally facing Kyoutani. “Name one time you cared about what I said.”

“We are not doing this,” Kyoutani growled. 

Yahaba leveled a smirk at him. “I told you, you don’t care.”

“You’re annoying.”

“Yeah, I know,” Yahaba said, looking off to the side and resting his head against the arm of the couch, settling down, “but so are you. We’re like the perfect pair.”

“Stop saying shit like that, it’s embarrassing.”

“We’re going to be unstoppable next year.” 

“Sure.”

“I’m serious!” Yahaba protested, turning back toward Kyoutani. “I meant what I said earlier, I’d choose you over anyone else on the team to set to, including Iwaizumi.”

“Yeah, I know you meant it, even though that’s stupid. Iwaizumi-senpai is a way better player than I am.”

Yahaba practically leapt forward, his knees sinking into the sofa, and grabbed Kyoutani’s face, squishing his cheeks between his hands and forcing the boy to make direct eye contact. It was difficult to maintain his grip, hard to make his fingers do what he wanted, and he felt unbalanced, swaying slightly into his own movement. 

He pressed his hold into Kyoutani’s skin firmly, grounding himself. “You lack discipline, but that can be learned. You have the raw power and talent to carry this entire team. I’m not looking at you through rose colored glasses.”

Kyoutani raised his arm and shoved Yahaba back so that he collapsed into his former position. 

“You’re too familiar Yahaba, stay out of my space.”

Yahaba let a pfft of air out. “It’s what friends do.”

“Before this week you actively despised me. Just because we’re on speaking terms now, doesn’t make us friends.”

“You don’t want to be friends with me Kyoutani?” Yahaba said with a pout.

Kyoutani paused before responding as if carefully choosing his words. “I just have a hard time believing _you_ want to be friends with _me_. So what, you realized you’ve been a bit of an asshole and now you want to work together for the sake of Seijoh? Okay, but just because you play well with someone on your team, doesn’t mean you have to like them outside of it. It’s fine to just be acquaintances.”

“But I like you,” Yahaba insisted.

He didn’t know why he was so desperate for Kyoutani to accept his attempts at friendship. He didn’t even _really_ know why he wanted to be friends with the grouchy, hot-headed spiker. Everything Kyoutani said was true. There had previously been no love lost between them, and going forward there was nothing stopping them from agreeing to a truce for the sake of the team and leaving it at that.

But this entire week all Yahaba had wanted was to remedy the hurt feelings between them. He didn’t want Kyoutani to tolerate him, he wanted him to like him and enjoy spending time with him. After spending Sunday mulling over what he had heard Kyoutani say and contemplating what he was going to do, Yahaba stopped bothering to figure out _why_ he was so drawn to befriending Kyoutani, and had just decided to follow his heart and do it.

“I like you,” Yahaba repeated, “and I’ve been spending this whole week thinking about you.”

Yahaba didn’t realize that it was possible for someone to appear flustered and irate at the same time, but there was no other explanation for the way Kyoutani looked at him.

“Do you even hear yourself? Are you aware of what the fuck you’re actually saying?”

“Unh?”

“You _like_ me, you’ve been thinking about me… earlier you called me ‘really attractive’. You’ve been speaking nonsense this entire week. You sound like a walking confession, so shut up.” Kyoutani said with a scoff.

Yahaba looked at him, mouth parted. He could feel himself blushing as the veracity of Kyoutani’s statements washed over him. He hadn’t realized how he had sounded, and he now felt thoroughly embarrassed at the signals he had apparently been projecting.

He was staring at Kyoutani, he could tell, but Kyoutani’s eyes were locked on the television screen, the sharp cut of his jaw obviously tense.

Oh god, he hoped he hadn’t made Kyoutani uncomfortable. He was surprised that he hadn’t been punched, surprised that Kyoutani had been willing to follow him to lunch every day and talk with him after practice to sort out what was going on. All that and Yahaba had still been invited over tonight. Wouldn’t Kyoutani want to stay as far away from him as possible?

He couldn’t think straight. He hadn’t been able to for days, but it was especially hard right now with the fog of his high clouding his mind. He settled back down into the sofa, head leaning against the arm rest again, his legs curled by his side, careful not to touch Kyoutani beside him despite the fact that their contact had brought him such comfort before.

Then, Yahaba allowed himself to entertain a very ridiculous idea. _What if he did like Kyoutani? Like, romantically._

He wanted to laugh at himself and call himself stupid and say ‘that’s ridiculous’ and move on, but instead his mouth went dry and his cheeks warmed and the buzz beneath his skin turned to tingles, like bits of lightning were trapped in his body. He thought through every moment of tonight, every time Kyoutani had caressed his hand or touched his knee, or damn it even _looked_ at him with those stupid hazel eyes. He thought of how every time he had just wanted _more_.

He thought of his response to Kyoutani smoking the week before, how he couldn’t get those parted lips and the curl of smoke that passed between them out of his mind. He had looked so good. Yahaba finally let himself fully think the phrase that had been dancing in his subconscious for the past week: Kyoutani looked good. He looked good, and Yahaba hadn’t admitted that to himself because the idea of having a crush on Kyoutani was laughable, it could barely cross his mind, but here he was.

Suddenly his presence beside him seemed so much weightier. The awareness of Kyoutani returned and Yahaba felt slightly awkward in his own skin as he realised he wanted to both press closer to the boy and run away at the same time.

Instead, Yahaba curled further into himself and let out a groan as reality fully hit, burying his face in his hands.

“What, are you okay?” Kyoutani asked, concern laced through his words.

“I like you,” Yahaba moaned into his hands, refusing to look up.

He shouldn’t be saying this outloud, but he had lost control of his senses. He imagined Kyoutani’s expression of horror, and how he was probably recoiling back, about to retreat to Hanamaki’s room, or even maybe kick Yahaba out. He thought of how any progress they made this week would be thrown out the window, and how Kyoutani probably really would quit the volleyball club after his confession.

A silence bloomed between them that Yahaba felt stretched on forever, but in reality wasn’t over ten seconds.

“Oh-kay,’ Kyoutani said.

Yahaba finally looked up at him, still through his fingers, and glared. “Okay? That’s all you have to say, okay?”

“What did you want me to say?” Kyoutani snipped, the anger that Yahaba had initially been expecting slipping out. “I know I’m- whatever, but I’ve still never heard someone so miserably say they like me. Sorry my friendship is such a chore, you can go back to hating me if you want.”

Yahaba fully sat up now, once more perched on his knees, hands gripping into the fabric of the sofa for support. “I can’t just stop liking you,” he hissed. “That’s not how feelings work. I didn’t choose to want you, this crush just happened.”

Kyoutani’s eyebrows shot up. “This crush?”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“You mean you _like_ me?”

“Hmm, uh, yeah,” Yahaba said with every ounce of sarcasm he could muster, “I think that’s what the phrase ‘I like you’ means, so yeah, when I said _I like you_ , I’m pretty sure I meant: I like you.”

His voice got louder and louder and Kyoutani’s eyes grew to match.

“You’re high,” he stated.

“No shit Kyoutani, I would have had the sense to shut the fuck up before I even spoke in the first place if I wasn’t -- kept all these thoughts to myself, but it’s like I can’t stop my fucking mouth right now… or my brain, so here we are. Sorry. Sorry that I’m the biggest moron to exist and that I apparently managed to fall for a guy that despises me and pity invites me to hang out with his friends, constantly berates me during-”

“Yahaba-”

“-practice. Fuck, I should leave-”

“Yahaba,” Kyoutani protested as Yahaba started to shift his legs awkwardly out from under him, determined to get off of the sofa.

“-before I say something even more monumentally stu-”

Kyoutani volleyed himself towards Yahaba, effectively pinning him to the couch. Now everything Kyoutani was pressed against him and Yahaba could feel his brain short circuit as he was brought face to face with, who he now realizes is, the object of his affections. 

“Yahaba,” Kyoutani repeated again, softly this time and perhaps a bit fondly.

His mind is still muddled, he still has no filter and he’s never seen how good the shape of his name is on Kyoutani’s lips before, but it’s not an image he’ll ever forget now.

He should leave. He should wiggle his way out of Kyoutani’s grasp and leave, but as he felt the weight of Kyoutani’s body, solid and firm, his addled mind couldn’t scrounge the desire to do so. Instead, his vision was filled with Kyoutani’s face, close enough to make out every detail, to see the way his tongue wets his lips before he opened his mouth to speak. 

But before he could, Yahaba’s thoughts treacherously vocalised themselves once more. “You’re making it really hard not to kiss you,” Yahaba whispers, simultaneously beginning to internally berate himself at his stupid, stupid lack of self control. _Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut?_

“So kiss me.”

“W-what?” he stuttered.

Kyoutani leaned so far forward, his nose slotted next to Yahaba’s, pressed against his cheek. Their lips were millimeters apart and he once again felt Kyoutani’s breath dance over his skin.

“ _So kiss me, Yahaba_.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Well, actually he did need to be told twice, but that’s all. He tilted his head just enough to close the distance, pressing his mouth against Kyoutani to relish in the soft pillow of his lips.

Oh god, this felt so good, and he opened wider, letting his tongue slip out and curl against Kyoutani’s, tasting his spit and the old must of smoke. He allowed himself to get lost in the experience of kissing him. It felt right, like all the tension and worry from this week was soothed, like he was supposed to be nowhere else but here, sandwiched between Kyoutani’s body and Hanamaki’s sofa.

His arms were trapped between them, so he tried to push all his desperation and desire through his lips as he pressed against Kyoutani. With each nip and lick, his body got hotter. He moaned into Kyoutani’s mouth and could feel a shaky inhale in response. Was this real? Was this actually happening to him?

He tilted his head back, disconnecting the kiss, and gazed up at the boy on top of him. Kyoutani tried to pull away, but as he lifted up and freed Yahaba’s arms, Yahaba wrapped them around Kyoutani’s middle, hugging the boy against himself. Kyoutani’s elbows fell on either side of Yahaba’s head, bracketing him in.

“Is this real?” Yahaba asked with a smile.

“You tell me. You’re the one that’s had an epiphany. I’ve always known how I feel about you.”

“What do you mean, how you’ve always felt about me? You’ve detested me ever since we first met.”

“No, you’re projecting your feelings onto mine. You were always a bitch and I wasn’t going to let you walk over me, so I just met you where you stood with insults.”

“If I was such a bitch, why did you like me, or why do you like me?”

Kyoutani ducked down and buried his face in Yahaba’s neck with a groan. “Are you really going to make me say this shit out loud?”

“Yes! I need to know you’re serious and not just messing with me.”

“This would be the stupidest way of messing with someone.”

“Kyoutani,” Yahaba carped, “please? Everyone likes being told nice things about themselves. Besides,” he unwound his arms from Kyoutani’s waist and pulled his head up, so that he could look at him, palms resting on his jaw, “I never thought I would see you of all people be so romantic, so let me take advantage of it while I can.”

Kyoutani sighed and ducked down to steal one more kiss, lingering a little longer than necessary, not that Yahaba was complaining, before pulling away to look down into his eyes.

“I like that you were never afraid of me, and more than that I appreciate your blunt honesty. I don’t like it when people beat around the bush, and you always speak what you feel. I remember the first time you got on my ass about being out of position, and I said some stupid shit in response and you didn’t back down. You got really close, in my face about it and that was when I realized I was fucked because I liked having your ferocity and passion focused on me.”

Yahaba could tell he was staring again, but it was difficult not to with the intensity of Kyoutani’s words. He had had no idea Kyoutani ever felt this way and it was almost shocking finding out. He couldn’t say he wasn’t elated though, feeling like a stomach full of butterflies had been released throughout his whole body.

“I’m speechless,” he finally said once it was clear Kyoutani wasn’t continuing, “I mean, I really didn’t know.”

Kyoutani gave a half smile. “No one did except Iwaizumi, and he only knew because he sussed it out from me. I’m pretty sure the reason he pulled Matsukawa and Hanamaki upstairs was because he was trying to give me an opportunity, so to speak.”

“I'm glad you took advantage of it,” Yahaba said, wiggling slightly underneath him.

“I didn’t, really. You’re the one that confessed.”

“Semantics,” Yahaba dismissed, and leaned forward again. “Can we go back to kissing?”

Kyoutani just smiled and dipped back down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ tik tok ](https://www.tiktok.com/@sincerelymarika)


	5. Chapter 5

The best part of waking up on Sunday was the warm hug of Kyoutani’s arms around him. Yahaba had made a pillow out of Kyoutani’s chest and they had contorted themselves to fit on the cramped sofa. His neck had a crick in it and his back felt tight, but he couldn’t have been more content to snuggle closer into the embrace and drift back to sleep.

They didn’t talk much in the morning, just swapped some lazy kisses and smiles before Hanamaki kicked everyone out. For the rest of the weekend Yahaba focused on homework and studying, and helped his parents out around the house. He didn’t message Kyoutani at all.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he just couldn’t think of anything to say. Every time he reached for his phone, he ended up staring at a blank screen. He didn’t want to send a stupid ‘hey’ without a conversational direction. That would probably seem clingy and annoying. They hadn’t talked about what their relationship really was. The more Yahaba thought on it, the more he found himself paranoid that he was reading too much into their conversation. Just because Kyoutani had _feelings_ , doesn’t mean he wanted to actually date him. Or maybe he used to want to date, but now he just wanted to fuck around. Or maybe he changed his mind and didn’t want anything to do with Yahaba anymore. Maybe Kyoutani had just been high and didn’t care at all.

Besides, Kyoutani was perfectly capable of texting him first if he wanted, but Yahaba’s phone stayed silent. He pretended like he didn’t care.

Nerves rolled through him as the clock ticked past the hours of Monday morning up until the bells chimed, signaling lunch.

He walked down the hallway and, as he had every day last week, peeked into classroom 2-B, spotting Kyoutani in the same corner he always occupied.

He didn’t even have to say anything before Kyoutani was out of his seat and walking towards Yahaba wearing a genuine smile. It made Yahaba’s heart melt and he ached to rush over and kiss him, but he repressed the urge and just grinned back, the two of them falling in stride with each other as they made their way to Watari’s classroom, shoulders brushing as they went.

Lunch was comfortable, more so than it had ever been last week. A couple people from Watari’s class joined them, and Kyoutani mostly ate in silence, but there was no awkward tension or aggressive fights. Just companionable conversation surrounding them and stolen glances with smiles between them. 

Yahaba felt like he was walking on air on the way back, his ability to focus in class for the rest of the day waning as more and more often he found his thoughts wandering back to Kyoutani. Maybe he would be able to catch him after school and they could grab a snack or maybe study together.

But when the end of the day came, Yahaba was surprised to see Oikawa waiting for him, his practiced, sweet smile plastered on his face.

“Yahaba-kun, would you care to grab some coffee with me? My treat.”

“Of course. Is everything alright?”

“Oh yes,” Oikawa said with a wave, starting down the hallway. “Iwa-chan just told me that you had a very eventful Saturday, and what kind of senpai would I be if I didn’t check in with you about it? I was, after all, the person who steered you in that direction. I feel somewhat responsible.”

“You give yourself too much credit,” Yahaba mumbled.

Oikawa just smiled and filled the rest of their trek to the little cafe with small talk about classes and other pointless topics. Once they arrived, they ordered the same drinks, the same food and sat at the same table as they had a week ago. So much had happened since then that, to Yahaba, it felt like that conversation was a distant memory.

“So Iwa-chan says you joined their little Saturday night kickback,” Oikawa stated once they had sat down, getting straight to the point.

“Uh, yeah.”

“How _did_ that end up happening? From our little locker room talk I gathered that it wasn’t something that interested you much. I actually remember telling you to leave it alone. It’s so puzzling how you ended up there.”

“I’m sorry, Oikawa-san-”

Oikawa shook his head. “I’m not mad, I’m flabbergasted and insatiably curious about the events leading up to that night.”

Yahaba took a breath and tried to find the words to succinctly explain what had landed him in that situation. He understood where Oikawa was coming from, he wouldn’t have believed anyone if they had told him two weeks ago that he would be smoking weed with Kyoutani and Seijoh’s volleyball club third years.

“Well, I took your advice and apologized to Kyoutani and he ended up inviting me over with them and I said yes.”

Oikawa’s eyes narrowed. “Why did you even want to go?”

Yahaba sighed. “I’m like the poster boy of innocence. I respect my senpais, I do my homework, I’m committed to volleyball, I never disappoint my parents, I’ve never dated anyone. I’m so inexperienced. Which, I’m mostly fine with, but when you told me what Iwaizumi and everyone does on Saturdays, I was curious.”

“That’s all?” Oikawa prodded.

“Well,” Yahaba admitted reluctantly, “I did want to spend some time with Kyoutani. What good would the apology have been otherwise?”

“Mhmm. So did you have fun at least?”

Yahaba blushed as he remembered the kisses they shared. “Yes.”

“Are you gonna do it again?”

Yahaba paused. He hadn’t really thought about whether or not he would join them again. He didn’t even know if he would be invited, although he would assume so. 

“I don’t think so,” he replied, picking apart the scone on his plate. “I mean, at some point, maybe. I’m not opposed to the idea of… of _it,_ but I don’t feel like I need to make that a regular activity. Just not my thing. But I’m glad I tried it.”

Oikawa nodded and a silence settled over them. Yahaba busied himself with his food and drink, but Oikawa sat stoically with a stare boring into him as if waiting. Yahaba wasn’t quite sure what his captain was angling for. He didn’t seem upset at Yahaba’s Saturday escapades, so he wracked his brain for some point of conversation that would cause Oikawa to break his eagle-eyed assessment.

But before Yahaba could think of anything, Oikawa took the lead again. “So what about Kyoutani?”

“What about Kyoutani?” Yahaba countered.

“How did the apology go?”

“Good.”

“How did the after apology go?”

Yahaba rolled his eyes, finally realizing what Oikawa was getting at. “Good,” was all he said in response.

“Yahaba-kun, c’mon!” he whined. “Iwa-chan told me that you two were all over each other on Saturday. What’s happening? I need status updates on my two star players.”

“I don’t know, we haven’t really talked,” Yahaba said through his embarrassment, “but I think that we’re good and maybe soon we’ll be…” he trailed off and looked up at Oikawa. “I don’t want to say it in case I jinx it, but I like him, I really do. He had lunch with us again today and it went well, so I’m hopeful.”

Oikawa gave him a satisfied smirk and took a drink. “What an interesting development. I’m happy for you.”

Yahaba smiled back.

*****

If Yahaba thought the rest of the week was going to go as smoothly as Monday, Wednesday would prove otherwise.

Tuesday had been great. Kyoutani continued to amiably join their makeshift group for lunch and Yahaba flourished at practice. The two of them still griped at each other, threw insults and called out inconsistencies and errors in play, but the malicious heat that used to lace their words had morphed into friendly, sarcastic banter. Both performed better than they had been this entire season, and with two days until the Spring National Qualifiers, their cohesive teamwork stood out even more. 

Yahaba knew that he wouldn’t be getting a lot of play since Oikawa would likely stay in the whole time as Sejoh’s setter, but he could feel the thrum of excitement when he thought to the times he’ll be switched in as a pinch server. He’ll make those moments count.

Regardless of whether or not Yahaba was on court, the attitude change in Kyoutani was consistent with everyone. It caused the air to feel charged with power, like each of their individual strengths were finally knitting together, creating a wonderful fabric of teamwork.

Yahaba left Tuesday practice feeling a swell of pride, excitement, and thrumming energy through his entire body. It felt like he owned the world, which is why, when everything fell apart on Wednesday, he was caught so off guard.

Kyoutani and Yahaba had lagged behind their group at the end of lunch, enjoying their few moments of relative privacy as they walked down the semi-crowded hallways. Yahaba felt an anxious curl of nerves whenever the two of them were alone together. They still hadn’t talked about what they were or what they wanted and as more time passed, the harder the topic seemed to breach. 

“Hey, Yahaba,” Kyoutani said as they neared the outside of his classroom, voice a little low and on the quiet side, “are you free Saturday?”

They slowed down to a stop, feet away from the 2-B door and Yahaba looked over, meeting Kyoutani’s eyes. Part of him wanted to say yes. He so desperately craved time with Kyoutani outside of school and outside of practice, and the Spring National Qualifiers would be over by then, but even if he wanted to spend another hazy night with Kyoutani and the third years, he wasn’t going to potentially right after a game.

He would be exhausted, not in the mood to deal with Matsukawa and Hanamaki’s antics or sit in a room where the air would be thick with the smell of weed. After a game, he just wants to relax and sleep. And if they lost before then, if they didn’t make it to the finals, Yahaba doubted he would feel like seeing any of his senpais anyway. He would be too ashamed.

The answer for Yahaba was obvious, even if it was hard to speak his rejection.

“No,” Yahaba said, and pushed on even though Kyoutani had opened his mouth to respond, afraid that he would be swayed by his words. “I mean, technically yes, I’m free, but I don’t want to hang out with you.”

He winced at how poorly he phrased himself and the momentary expression of hurt that crossed Kyoutani’s face.

Yahaba grimaced. “That came out wrong, I just meant I’m not interested in,” he paused, unable to actually bring himself to say what he meant: weed, smoking, whatever, still slightly embarrassed by the subject. “You know,” is what he settled on, with a vague gesture between them. “It just isn’t for me.”

Yahaba didn’t think he had ever seen Kyoutani look so shocked, like he had just slapped him across the face. It took Yahaba aback. He would have thought his rejection was to be expected. Yahaba didn’t think he seemed like the type of person to smoke every week, regardless of what he had done last Saturday and it was pissing him off that Kyoutani was apparently so hurt by this notion.

“Stop looking like a kicked dog, Kyoutani.”

“Just, fuck off Yahaba.”

Kyoutani’s voice was slightly softer than expected, more exasperated than venomous. He turned around and walked into his homeroom, Yahaba staring dumbly behind him.

Yahaba sighed and marched away to his own class, fuming. The more he thought about their exchange, the angrier he got. How dare Kyoutani get upset over such a small thing. He was the one that had said ‘smoke if you want, don’t if you dont,’ and now he’s acting like Yahaba saying no was a mark against his character? What an asshole.

He sighed again and supposed that wasn’t any new revelation. He just thought that Kyoutani knew him a bit better and wouldn’t care. He had seemed so understanding and kind on Saturday, willing to do whatever Yahaba had felt comfortable with. Why the fuck was he getting his panties in a twist over this? They could hang out at other times and do other things.

Once more as class started, Yahaba was unable to focus, thoughts of Kyoutani plaguing his mind. However, instead of lighthearted excitement and butterflies, a mounting rage replaced it, By the time school was finished, his enmity formed a thick aura around him, instantaneously obvious to everyone as he entered the locker rooms and began to change for practice. 

Kyoutani was apparently in a similar state, having slammed his locker shut so hard Yahaba was surprised it hadn’t dented. He glared at the man’s back as he walked towards the doorway up to the gym and caught Iwaizumi and Oikawa sharing a look from the corner of his eye. It just pissed him off more to be openly read by his senpai. 

Yahaba took a deep breath to steel himself, finished changing, and started the walk to the gym, Watari cautiously flanking his right side.

“Everything okay?” Watari asked hesitantly.

“Peachy,” Yahaba spat out.

“Right.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He could hear Watari sigh and mumble, “this is going to be a fun practice,” under his breath.

Practice couldn’t have been further from fun. It was as if someone had turned a reset dial back and then kept cranking, every ounce of progress made yesterday deteriorating before their eyes. Oikawa didn’t even seem to be able to pull them together as Yahaba and Kyoutani’s foul moods seeped into their teammates. 

They got an earful from their coach at the end, but it wasn’t anything compared to the speech Oikawa left them with once the faculty cleared out.

“...If we lose at Spring Qualifiers, it better be to a better team, not because you guys can’t pull your shit together. If this isn’t fixed by tomorrow, I will bench every one of you that I suspect of being the problem. Sort yourselves the fuck out.”

Without allowing a response, he turned around and headed towards their locker room, the rest of the team staring after him silently.

Oikawa was moody and nasty and sometimes volatile, but he rarely spat genuine vitriol at his own team. Yahaba was worried at how mad he had been to speak so barbarically. He didn’t dare follow him, no one except Iwaizumi did, but before Iwaizumi took off, he looked pointedly at Kyoutani and then Yahaba who had situated themselves on opposite sides of their huddle.

“He’s talking to you two,” was all he said before chasing after Oikawa.

Matsukawa let out a low whistle, but still no one spoke. A painfully long three minutes passed before anyone made a move to go change, and even then as people filtered away, Yahaba stayed behind. He didn’t want to be in anyone’s vicinity right now, feeling ashamed and embarrassed by his behavior, yet still incredibly angry at Kyoutani and his situation.

He sighed, sitting down on the gym floor once he was alone and buried his head in his hands. How had everything gone so sour in just a day? He would ask Oikawa for advice, but he didn’t feel like opening that can of worms. Instead, he tried to envision his captain in front of him and think of what he would say.

_Talk to him_ , was all that he could come up with, but the thought of approaching Kyoutani left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn’t know what he would say. _Sorry for having my priorities right in life, why do you have such a problem with that?_

He scoffed at himself. Yahaba knew he was being a bit unreasonable, but he felt hurt and uncharitable considering the circumstances. He looked up at the door to the locker rooms and willed Kyoutani to come up out of them. He would listen if Kyoutani approached him, he just didn’t think he could be the first one to break the ice this time.

No matter how much he stared, the door remained firmly shut. Eventually Yahaba sighed and picked himself up off the ground, figuring that everyone was pretty much cleared out by now and he would be able to dress and leave in peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tik tok ](https://www.tiktok.com/@sincerelymarika)


	6. Chapter 6

The sun was barely peeking above the horizon when the Aoba Johsai volleyball club met in front of the school to leave for the tournament. It was before classes started, so the campus was empty, save the team. The only sound was the rumble of the bus and the light chatter between the students as everyone arrived.

Yahaba stood off to the side, next to Watari, acutely aware of Kyoutani hanging towards the back of their group. He tried not to stare, but couldn’t help occasionally glancing his direction, just to see if maybe Kyoutani was looking back at him. He never was.

“Just go and talk to him,” Watari muttered, eyes focused down at his phone as he mindlessly scrolled through social media.

Yahaba glared at him. “I don’t know who you mean.”

“Yes you do. Just apologize or whatever already, otherwise Oikawa won’t let you play.”

“I don’t need to apologize for anything,” Yahaba insisted, “and it’s the coaches that decide whether or not I play, not Oikawa.” 

That statement caused Watari to lock his phone and actually look up at Yahaba. “If Oikawa thinks benching you because of this stupid fight is the best for the team, the coaches are gonna listen to him. And he’s right. If you play in a match like you were playing yesterday, I don’t even know if you deserve to be captain next year.”

Yahaba's eyes widened. Watari had never been so direct with him before. He tried to find the humor in his statement, but his friend was resoutly looking at him, honesty on display.

Yahaba huffed. “I’m not apologizing, but I’m not gonna pick a fight. I’ll just let him be.”

“Well then stop glaring at him every two seconds.”

“Alright!” called Irihata, “everyone on the bus!”

Kyoutani sat in the back, alone. It was normal for him, everyone else pairing off nicely. Yahaba ignored the urge to go and sit next to him. The bench in the back of the bus was long, spanning the entire width and he would be able to curl his legs to the side and lean against his shoulder and maybe take a short nap. 

But before they could even get to that point, they would have to talk. Yahaba couldn’t think of anything worse than talking with Kyoutani right now.

His latent morning bitterness developed into a seething anger as the bus chugged along. He could tell Watari didn’t want to talk, instead plugging his ears with music and looking out the window. Nobody else talked to him either and while Oikawa and Iwaizumi usually used the bus’ travel time to confer about strategy with the coaches, today the sight made Yahaba uneasy, thinking their conversation probably included him at some point.

He tried to keep his distance from Kyoutani. Through their arrival, changing, and receiving their lineups and game times, he stayed as far away as reasonably possible, hoping that it would show Oikawa that they had sorted their shit out and that they wouldn’t be fighting anymore. At least Kyoutani seemed to be on the same page, never looking his direction once and never coming within five feet of him.

But they weren’t fooling anyone. The morning and afternoon matches came and went and Yahaba was firmly benched. Even Kyoutani, who they had strategized putting in when Seijoh needed more offense, was kept out of every game. Yahaba could tell he was getting antsy.

The team won all their matches regardless. As they left the gym at the end of the day, Oikawa was loudly going over their lineup for the next day. Date Tech and, if they win that match, Karasuno or Wakutani next. None of them wanted to fuck these games up.

“Why won’t he talk to me?” Yahaba muttered quietly as their bus approached home. It was the first time he has spoken since getting on.

Watari looked over. “Just fucking talk to _him_ Yahaba, this is getting out of hand.”

“I did!” he hissed, “I’m the reason we were getting along so well in the first place, and now he fucked up and I’m supposed to fix it again?”

“Did you think that being friends with Kyoutani would be easy?”

Yahaba scoffed and looked away from him.

“What did he even do?” Watari asked.

“He got mad when I told him I didn’t want to smoke weed with him.”

Watari’s face screwed up in confusion. “I’m assuming there’s a lot more to this than I know, but Yahaba, that doesn’t really sound like him. Are you sure it wasn’t some miscommunication?”

Finally, their bus pulled up to the curb and parked, giving Yahaba the perfect excuse to ignore Watari’s question.

Oikawa stood up and addressed everyone. “Alright. No group debrief today. Go home, do your homework and _sleep_! I’ll text you individual notes if there are any, and we’ll meet early tomorrow to go over strategy for Date Tech. Now please file out, back to front.”

“Hey,” Watari said, grabbing lightly at Yahaba’s shoulder as everyone around them began shifting around to gather their belongings, “what are you doing Saturday? Come over and hang for a bit and take your mind off whatever’s going on. It’ll be a good way to decompress from the tournament, and I got a new game we can check out.”

Yahaba heard a tisk from above him and looked up just as Kyoutani was passing by his seat, still ignoring him. Yahaba glared at his back. Somehow he knew that chide was in response to him and Watari and it pissed him off more.

“Sure Watari,” he said loudly, standing up and pulling his gym bag down from the overhead rack, “I would love to hang out with you on Saturday. I’m completely free.”

He nearly knocked himself out with the intensity that he yanked at his duffel’s straps. After untangling his hand, he slung the bag over his shoulders and filed off the bus, passing Kyoutani as aggressively as he could manage once he was on the sidewalk.

He could feel Kyoutani turning and following him. He didn’t even get a block away before the urge to confront him bubbled to the surface.

Yahaba whipped around and faced Kyoutani. “What is your problem?” he hissed at him.

“I live this direction, asshole.”

Kyoutani kept walking forward, passing Yahaba without another word.

“You’re the asshole,” Yahaba shoulted, taking a couple quick steps forward to catch up with him. 

“Could you just leave me the fuck alone?” Kyoutani stopped and stood his ground as he yelled at Yahaba. “You were doing a good enough job the rest of the day, I don’t know why you want to pick a fucking fight now.”

“You’re the one acting like a complete dick just because-”

“I’m really fucking not. Just go back to Watari and-”

“I _knew_ you were irritated that I made plans with him instead of you on Saturday. What am I supposed to say? Sorry that I’m prioritising my best friend over a teammate who’s barely even an acquaintance.”

Kyoutani’s jaw hung open. It was a low blow, and a complete lie, but Yahaba was too angry and prideful to back down. He schooled his expression to neutrality as they both stared at each other, Yahaba aware that they weren’t far enough away from the bus to be unheard. Everyone’s attention was probably on the two of them, but he ignored that thought and focused on the way Kyoutani’s face seemed oddly devoid of emotion, eyes slightly glassed over.

“Jesus, Yahaba, I knew you were- but-” Kyoutani cut himself off this time and looked off with a curt nod before locking eyes with him once again and speaking in a level voice. “Listen, you’ve obviously decided I’m not worth your time. I just wish you could have figured that out before involving me at all. I’ve been keeping out of your fucking way, I don’t know what else the fuck you want from me. If you could stop rubbing your indifference in my face, that’d be great.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Does it seem like I’m indifferent right now?”

“I don’t know, Yahaba!” Kyoutani shouted, throwing his hands to the sky. “I can’t fucking read you. I thought we were good and then suddenly you’re telling me you’re just not into me? I feel used, Yahaba. I feel used.”

“You’re the one that painted a picture of who you thought I was in your head and then couldn’t handle the fact that I’m not that. I wasn’t using you, you just decided I’m not cool enough for you or something.”

Kyoutani seethed. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. You’re literally making zero sense. I never said-”

“If you can’t understand what I’m talking about, you’re even worse at comprehending human emotion and nuance than I thought.”

“You’re so god damn rude. I’m going home. Just, stay the fuck away from me. Take a different street.”

Yahaba watched him walk away before turning back to head another direction, feeling thoroughly confused. He hadn’t really understood what Kyoutani had been saying, and it left a nagging thought that he was missing something important.

*****

Yahaba knew that their argument wouldn’t get them any bonus points with Oikawa. If anything, it had just sealed their non-involvement in stone. However, watching the Date Tech game was nerve wracking. Even though they won the match 2-0, the second game was closer than any of them were comfortable with.

Yahaba grimaced as he thought of all their plays. It would have been easier with Kyoutani on court. What they needed was someone fast and powerful enough to break through Date Tech’s iron wall, and Kyoutani should have been their weapon: it’s what they had been practicing towards, but he had remained benched the entire game. Yahaba could tell that Kyoutani had once again been itching to get out there.

The team found a patch of grass outside the gymnasium to spread out on to have their lunch. The weather was surprisingly pleasant and relaxing. It would be a couple hours more before they went up against the next team, which ended up being Karasuno. They would probably go over strategy after they eat.

As everyone settled, Yahaba pulled Oikawa to the side.

Oikawa looked at him, unimpressed with his arms crossed.

It was difficult to move his mouth. He felt nervous under his Captain’s intense glare, but he forced himself to speak. “Um, I know Kyoutani and I are in a rough spot right now, and I know it’s affecting the team and I know it’s stupid.”

“Yes.”

“We should have addressed it earlier, but we didn’t. I didn’t. And now, we’re here and we’re about to go against Karasuno and if Kyoutani needs to play, he should play. I won’t be on court to distract him or anger him, so he should be fine.”

“I don’t know if I’d be setting a very good example if I just let him play again even though you haven’t sorted your issues out, Yahaba-kun” Oikawa said, voice like ice.

“I know, and I promise, _I promise_ , I will sort it out after the match. If I talk to him right now, I’m worried it would put him in a worse headspace and I don’t want that. This team is important to me, and I know it’s important to you and all of the other seniors. Right now, I just want us to do whatever's best for us to win, and I think that’s using Kyoutani. He’s good.”

“I know he’s good.”

“I know you know he’s good.”

Oikawa sighed and pinched his nose. “I really fucking hate Karasuno. Why couldn’t you two have had your couple’s spat after the season was done?”

Yahaba blushed, but didn’t respond. Instead, he bowed low. “Thank you, Oikawa-senpai. I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused.”

“Run along.”

Yahaba scampered away, quickly finding a spot next to Watari.

“What were you two talking about?” he asked.

Yahaba looked over. “I was convincing him to let Kyoutani play against Karasuno.”

Watari’s eyebrows shot so far up, Yahaba thought they might leave his head.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Watari chuckled and looked back at his food. “Okaay.”

*****

Once again, Kyoutani hadn’t been selected to start, but Yahaba wasn’t too surprised. The coaches would want to test the waters against Karasuno before introducing a wild card.

As the game progressed, tensions and the score between Karasuno and Seijoh climbed. Kyoutani was selected to swap in on match point for Karasuno. Yahaba could feel a knot twisting in his chest as he watched Kyoutani step on the court. He knew Kyoutani had it in him, it’s just whether or not he would execute on it.

Yahaba watched as, immediately, a set clearly marked and called for Kindaichi was stolen by Kyoutani and hit out of bounds. He groaned and muttered, “are you fucking kidding me?” while Hanamaki next to him let out a slow exhale as the whistle blew and Karasuno officially took the first set.

They started with Kyoutani again, Yahaba praying that it would go better this time, and temporarily it did. Despite some sloppy plays here and there, they managed to take the second set. Kyoutani on court was captivating. He was aggressive, powerful and confident. He was breathtaking.

Oikawa gave the team a brief pepalk and then Seijoh lined up, feeling confident and optimistic before the final match. However, as the game progressed, Yahaba felt his own irritation mount as Kyoutani made mistake after mistake. It was grating. Sure, letting Kyoutani play was a risk, hell Yahaba had been preaching that just a month ago, but their expectations had still been higher than the performance he was giving. He had done well in the previous set, but insults from the other team and a stagnant game momentum caused Kyoutani’s frustration to take over.

Yahaba couldn’t take his eyes off the car wreck that was Kyoutani’s game.

As the final set progressed, Kyoutani became more erratic. Yahaba could hardly appreciate the good plays he, or anyone else on the team, made because he was so frustrated with simple, basic strategy and self control that was being ignored. He knew Kyoutani had more in him, he just needed to get his shit together, he needed to care.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Matsukawa mumbled beside him, pressing a palm into his eyes as another one of Kyoutani’s spikes was blocked.

The coaches called Kunimi over and Yahaba watched out of the corner of his eye as words were exchanged. He knew that meant that Kyoutani was about to be switched out, and he knew that Kyoutani wouldn’t be happy about it.

The shrill sound of a whistle echoed over the noise of the gym. Kunimi stood to the side holding a plastic marker with ‘16’ on it, waiting to swap in, stoically watching Kyoutani eye him as he started to leave his position. Kyoutani practically ripped the substitution card from his hands as he stomped over to the coaches bench.

“If you want to get back on the court, son, you need to check your attitude,” was said loud and clear enough for everyone in the vicinity to hear.

Kyoutani turned around and stalked towards the standing group of off court players. Everyone parted for him, too afraid to approach the surly mad dog, but Yahaba had had it. He hadn’t talked to, practically begged, Oikawa to let Kyoutani play, just to have him throw away the opportunity. His personal frustration with Kyoutani seemed to melt away, replaced with a fury for the game, his team mates and Kyoutani himself who could be so good if he just cooled the fuck down.

He turned and glared at Kyoutani’s retreating form, speaking once he had stopped. “Get yourself together already, we’ve got our backs to the wall now.” He watched as Kyoutani’s shoulders tensed under his jersey at Yahaba’s words.

Without turning around, Kyoutani replied with a terse, “shut up. Like I care.”

Matukawa glanced over. “Yahaba, don’t push him too much,” he said, jogging past to swap Watari off.

Yahaba scoffed. “Rather not, sorry.”

The last thing Kyoutani needed was someone babying him. Kyoutani had previously told Yahaba that he appreciated his blunt honesty and frankness, and he was gonna get it. Yahaba wasn’t about to back down now, right in the middle of the most important game of the season so far.

“Falling for the opponent’s taunt, getting worked up and self destructing? That’s lame.”

“What did you say?” Kyoutani spat, finally turning around, just a hair, to glare at Yahaba.

“The way you just saunter back on to the court with no regard to the kind of crap you may have pulled. Well you know not everybody’s gonna stand for that kind of garbage. I know I won’t. I thought it was a cold-hearted move, both against us and against you, but that’s not the problem at all. People we need most become the regular members. And you were chosen, so I suggest you earn your keep.”

Kyoutani’s face remained blank, angering Yahaba even more. Offended by the lack of response, he surged forward and fisted his right hand in Kyoutani’s jersey, slamming him against the wall of the gym. Yahaba was aware of his teammates looking pointedly away from their confrontation, could feel the rise and fall of Kyoutani’s chest as he pinned him.

He looked up into Kyoutani’s finally fiery eyes. “If you sling mud onto our senpai’s big game,” he brought his other hand up and grabbed his left shoulder, shoving it back, “I’ll never forgive you.”

They looked at each other. Only a second passed, but it felt like forever, Yahaba finding himself once more enraptured by his familiar eyes as Kyoutani’s body slowly relaxed against the wall, tension draining from his figure, even as his fingers curled into a tight fist by his side.

“Well now, it turns out you do actually give a damn.”

Yahaba thought maybe he was talking about more than just volleyball.

He let go of Kyoutani, letting the momentum of releasing his arm turn him away. “Well you at least got that much right,” he paused and looked over the court. “Every point you gain or lose goes for the whole team. I beg you, please lend us your power.”

“Okay,” Kyoutani said, and Yahaba could feel his conviction.

The coaches must have too because shortly after, Kyoutani was put back in.

Yahaba could feel his jaw drop slightly as he watched Kyoutani’s whole demeanor change as he started to control his movements and body. He still wasn’t perfect, and taking points from Karasuno was still a process akin to pulling teeth, but it was a major improvement. Yahaba watched his form and plays and smiled to himself, realizing he was watching Kyoutani throw himself fully into the game.

“The coaches are calling for you,” Kunimi said to him with a nod over to Seijoh’s bench.

Yahaba shook himself from the trance he had fallen into and jogged over.

“We need to grab and hold a firm lead,” Coach Irihata said. “With Karasuno’s attacking power, we need to beef up our defense for a short bit, so I’m swapping you in for Kindaichi when he’s up to serve. You have better game and court awareness than him and we have all the spiking power we need from Kyoutani. Just keep the ball in the air.”

“Yes Coach.”

Mizoguchi held out a plastic card with ‘12’ printed on it and Yahaba took it, walking over to the side of the court to switch Kindaichi out. He was nervous. He had been working on his jump serve for months now, but hadn’t had much time to use it in game. It was nowhere near as polished as Oikawa’s, but he tried to remind himself not to compare his skill in this moment and just focus on his own play.

Kindaichi took his card and handed him the ball. Yahaba got into position and the whistle blew. He exhaled, ran forward and hit his serve. It was picked up by Karasuno, but instead of letting disappointment discourage him, he tracked the ball the best he could, while keeping mental tabs on his teammate’s positions and movements in relation to his own.

Tanaka spiked the ball right next to Oikawa, who managed to dig it up and send it fairly center with a shout of, “Yahaba!” to accompany it.

He felt as if time slowed. He ran towards the ball and could see Kyoutani circling around to his right, preparing to spike, legs bending, muscles flexing, his whole body coiled with energy.

Yahaba jumped and set the ball his direction. “Kyoutani,” he called, voice ringing loudly over the court.

_Shit, it’s too short._

He watched the arc of the ball, his breath catching as Kyoutani’s left hand swung down and sent the ball slamming towards the other side, scoring Seijoh another point. He let out an incredulous, endorphin releasing, relieved and excited yell, fully turning towards Kyoutani to revel in their success.

Yahaba tried to memorize the determined glint in Kyoutani’s eye, the way his fist pumped in front of him, his stance, wide and confident. He had never looked more beautiful than in this moment, a vision of the future. 

Yahaba could feel himself grinning, every inhale and exhale heavy.

The team reset to their respective positions and Yahaba went back to serve again, but this time they lost the point and Kindaichi was swapped back in. 

“Kyoutani,” he spoke as he walked off, passing by the serious spiker, “we’re counting on you.”

Energy thrummed between them, and Yahaba had to tear himself away from his piercing gaze. In that moment, he felt like he would have given anything to be able to stay on the court with Kyoutani, but instead he walked off and took his place next to Kunimi in the sideline box, forced to watch as Karasuno grappled their way to the top. 

The last point they lost, the winning point for their rival, came after an agonizingly long volley. Watching the ball irreversibly ricochet off of Oikawa’s arms was surreal. His chest felt like his heart was being ripped out of it, the tension that had been thrumming through him leaving as the pressure of this game melted away.

He felt frozen, watching as the Karasuno players rejoiced on their side of the court. He looked over to Watari, kneeling on the floor, Hanamaki collapsed next to him. Kindaichi was hunched over near the net, hands braced on his knees while Oikawa, Iwaizumi and Kyoutani stared off into the distance where the ball had landed against the glossed wood.

Even Kunimi next to him looked down, slightly dejected. 

A call to line up and thank the other team rang out, then a motion to huddle while Karasuno’s coaches came over to speak words of praise or advice, before their own coaches addressed them. Their voices washed over Yahaba. He was sure Oikawa would summarize it later, anyway. He just nodded along, replaying everything he could remember about the game in his head.

Even though Yahaba had barely played, he still felt the tarnish on his pride. They lined up to shout a heartfelt thank you to their supporters in the stands, but it wasn’t just a thank you, it was a promise to improve and go further next year.

As they split apart, Yahaba looked over toward the ever loud and obnoxious Karasuno who were dogpiled on top of each other, collapsed into a pile of sweat and laughter. Kyoutani and Watari flanked him. It was an odd feeling, knowing that at this moment the seniors were done. With one loss, the three of them became the new backbone of Aoba Johsai. 

“Don’t ever forget this sight. We’re definitely going to pay them back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, they sort themselves out next chapter which will be out tomorrow. We'll actually wrap up the entire thing. <3
> 
> [ tik tok ](tiktok.com/@sincerelymarika)


	7. Chapter 7

“Oops, I left something in the gym! Go on without me.”

Without waiting for a reply, Watari broke away from Yahaba and Kyoutani and sprinted back to the court they had just left. Yahaba watched him go with a small frown. There was no way Watari had forgotten anything, he had seen his friend double-check his belongings before they headed out.

He sighed, looking over to Kyoutani who had continued walking forward, down the front hall packed with other teams and families, only just realizing that Yahaba had stopped. 

Kyoutani turned around to face him. “He said to go on without him.”

Yahaba grimaced. He was tempted to simply continue without another word, and it was going against his every instinct not to do so, but he had promised Oikawa that he would make amends. “I know, but, we should talk. I think I might owe you an apology.”

“You _think_?” Kyoutani growled out.

“I mean-” but Yahaba cut himself off as an older man, with a receding hairline and scruff on his chin, approached Kyoutani.

Kyoutani followed Yahaba’s gaze, looking startled as recognition flitted over his face. “Kiyoshi-san!” His cheeks reddened and his head fell. Kyoutani mumbled out a quiet, “I didn’t realize you came,” that Yahaba could barely hear.

The older man smiled. “I know, but I had to see how you were carrying on with your team. Everyone at the community center has been curious too. They’ll be happy that I can finally tell them you found your home.”

“Kiyoshi-san…” Kyoutani mumbled, embarrassed.

Kiyoshi looked over. “I’m assuming you’re Yahaba?”

Yahaba was surprised to be addressed, but managed to stutter out a shaky, “yes,” while stepping forward to join their conversation.

He was bewildered by the situation. He had never seen Kyoutani act so bashful around anyone. Yahaba was endeared by his blush, but insanely curious as to their relationship.

“This is Kiyoshi-san,” Kyoutani introduced with a nod, “he was part of a community team I played with when I, uh, took a break from Seijoh.”

“Yeah, what he’s not telling you is that I’m the one who convinced him to come back,” Kiyoshi said with a laugh.

Yahaba gave a small bow. “It’s nice to meet you, and thank you so much for your guidance. We really would be nowhere without Kyoutani.”

“Yahaba,” Kyoutani bit out, attempting to cut off his praise.

“Oh, I wouldn’t say nowhere,” Kiyoshi replied, “but he does, surprisingly, seem to fit in rather well,” he glanced towards Kyoutani, “at least while you’re using your head.”

“He’s been working really hard.”

“I’ve never known him to do anything less.”

“Okay, both of you shut up,” Kyoutani spat with a glare, but Kiyoshi just laughed. It made Yahaba wonder how Kyoutani’s community team had managed with him.

“You played well,” Kiyoshi stated, clapping his hand onto Kyoutani’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

He pulled his hand back and gave the two of them another smile. “I should be on my way, but I’ll be sure to catch another game next year.”

As they watched Kiyoshi walk away, Yahaba leaned towards Kyoutani. “How did he know my name?” he asked.

“No reason.”

“You talked about me.”

“I talked about everyone on the team.”

“Knowing how our relationship was back then, you probably weren’t saying very nice things.”

“Yahaba, just drop it.”

“Kyoutani-”

“Guys, I told you not to wait up.” Watari’s voice floated over the crowd, cutting Yahaba off, as he caught back up to the two of them. 

Kyoutani rolled his eyes and began walking down the hallway once more, Yahaba and Watari lagging behind.

“Did you guys not talk?” Watari asked, voice low. “I was trying to give you time to resolve your shit before the bus ride back.”

“I know, thanks for abandoning me by the way,” he said with a glare, no real malice behind it. “We got stopped by someone Kyoutani knew, but _anyway,_ ” he emphasized, talking over the question forming on Watari’s tongue, “I’m just going to sit next to him on the way home, we’ll talk then.”

They met up with the rest of Seijoh near the front doors, and collectively piled onto the bus. Yahaba kept close to Kyoutani, purposely placing himself in line after him, so Kyoutani wouldn’t have the chance to ignore him.

But Yahaba had apparently underestimated Kyoutani’s subbornness, because as they walked down the aisle of the bus, Kyoutani swung himself around into the empty seat next to Kindaichi, who looked terrified at the prospect of riding next to Mad Dog for the entire trip back.

“Kindaichi-kun, that seat doesn't look very comfortable, would you like me to switch you out of it?” Yahaba asked with a forced sweetness to his voice, leaning into Kyoutani’s space as his eyes bored into Kindachi’s.

Kyoutani slammed his palm against the seat in front of him, arm creating a physical block between Yahaba and Kindaichi. Matsukawa, who was sitting in front of them grunted at the impact against his seat.

“Kindaichi wants to sit by me.”

“He doesn’t look like he wants to sit by you,” Yahaba hissed.

“He does.”

Yahaba smiled with lips pinched together. “I think Kindaichi can speak for himself.”

“I think we need to keep the line moving back,” Kunimi’s disinterested voice floated over to them. 

“I agree,” Yahaba said, “Kindaichi, move it.”

“Yahaba, maybe this can wait,” Watari suggested from behind him. He pulled Yahaba back and leaned closer to him. “If you want a productive conversation,” he muttered, “this isn’t the way to start it. You need to cool down.”

Yahaba huffed, but shrugged Watari off of him and walked until he could slide into the next available seat, Watari sitting next to him. 

“Okay,” Watari said as the last of Seijoh settled down, “we have the entire ride back to school. You’re telling me what happened -- all of it. I’ve kept quiet about whatever the fuck is happening between you two, but I’m your best friend, man, and you obviously need help. You gave me the one sentence spark notes version, but that wasn’t enough. I need details.”

Yahaba sighed and settled into his seat, slouching down and tipping his head back. The rumbles of the engine starting provided a soothing vibration and Yahaba looked over to Watari, surprised, although he probably shouldn’t be, to see genuine concern marring his face.

He opened up and detailed everything that happened the past two weeks. From his eavesdropping that caused him to reassess his relationship with Kyoutani, to their Saturday night conversation on Hanamaki’s sofa, coming to realize his romantic feelings and their shared kiss, right up until the conversation outside of Kyoutani’s classroom that seemed to shatter everything into pieces he couldn’t fit back together.

His story took so long, that they were pulling up to school as he was finishing. “All I was trying to say was that I didn’t want to smoke this weekend, and he acted like I had personally offended him. So, I don’t know how to make things right with him because I’m not sorry for that. Apologizing would be fake. I just hate where we are.”

“I think you’re stupid,” Watari stated plainly.

Yahaba turned to him, hurt. “ _Excuse me_?”

“Kyoutani didn’t ask you to smoke with him, he asked if you were free.”

“Yeah, but they always smoke on Saturdays.”

Watari threw him a puzzled look. “Not on weekends we have a game.”

Yahaba looked at him, equally confused. “How does everyone know about this arrangement except for me?”

“Is that what you’re concerned about?”

Yahaba crossed his arms and pouted. “I just feel left out.”

Watari rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a baby. Listen,” he gave Yahaba a pointed look and continued, “it sounds like Kyoutani was just asking you to hang out, and you said no to that. So, he probably thinks you don’t want to see him and he got his feelings hurt. He’s pretty sensitive.”

Yahaba raised a brow. “Sensitive?”

“Uh, yeah. He throws fits over the smallest things. It took you slamming him into a fucking wall today to get him to snap into it. If that’s not sensitive, I don’t know what is.”

“That’s not sensitive,” Yahaba argued, “I don’t mince my words with him.”

Watari just sighed. “Yeah, you can be blunt with him when it comes to technique and skill and volleyball and he appreciates your honesty, but when it comes to his feelings, he’s guarded. Notice how he doesn’t really have any friends. So it’s probably a big deal when he lets someone close because it gives them the opportunity to actually hurt him. Kind of exactly like what you did.”

The bus pulled into a stop and everyone stood up and gathered their belongings to leave.

“I don’t know, I don’t think he cares enough about me for what I say to hurt him that badly.”

Watari looked over at Kyoutani as he slung his duffel across his chest and then turned back to Yahaba whose arms were already full with his bags. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

Yahaba let out a sharp exhale and shimmied his way into the aisle. “Scooch down, I need to catch him before he has a chance to run away.”

“Promise not to be too much of an asshole.”

Yahaba smiled. “Since when do you have a soft spot for Mad Dog?”

“Since I realized he’s our only hope for our team next year.”

Yahaba grunted. “Don’t let him hear you say that. He’s allergic to compliments.”  
  


They walked off the bus, and unsurprisingly Kyoutani was already a block away, his pace quick and determined.

“For fuck’s sake,” Yahaba muttered to himself as he chased after Kyoutani with a sudden memory of their confrontation yesterday.

Yahaba was forced to jog to catch up, finally falling in line with his brisk step after another half a block.

“You ever think you’re in the wrong sport?” Yahaba asked as he matched his strides to Kyoutani’s. “I think you’d be a great contender for Japan’s olympic speed walking team.”

“What do you want?” Kyoutani clipped out.

“I want to talk.”

“We talked yesterday.”

“Kind of. I think we more _shouted_ yesterday.”

Kyoutani couldn’t help but give an aborted chuckle and Yahaba took pride in his ability to make him smile in this situation, if only for a moment. It seemed to be the only response he was going to get.

“Can you just slow down a second? I can’t focus while I’m practically running.”

Kyoutani abruptly stilled and turned towards Yahaba. “Why aren’t you just going home or hanging with Watari right now?”

“Because all I could think of was getting off the bus to talk to you. Don’t worry, I have Watari’s blessing.”

Kyoutani folded his arms and glared. “Well, I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Are you purposely making this more difficult?” Yahaba asked.

“I just don’t want to hear any more of your bullshit.”

Yahaba groaned and sat down in the middle of the sidewalk, arms resting against his knees and head pillowed against his arms. He took a couple steadying breaths before looking up at Kyoutani who was looking down at him, waiting for him to talk.

“You rile me up so easily,” Yahaba said earnestly, “I didn’t mean to come here to fight.”

“So just say what you want to say.”

“Watari thinks I’m bad at communicating.”

Kyoutani’s head gave a small tilt to the side. “From the way this conversation is going, I’m inclined to believe him.”

Yahaba blinked up at him. “When you asked me if I was free this weekend, I thought you were talking about,” the thought caused his words to catch in his mouth again and he had to look away to continue, “you know,” he gestured vaguely, “smoking and stuff. I don’t know. I just- it was cool, but it’s not my thing, not every week at least. And I just, _that’s_ what I was saying no to, not _you_.”

Yahaba cheeks heated up and he swore he could feel Kyoutani’s eyes on him, but he zeroed in on a crack in the sidewalk, worried that he would lose his courage if he looked anywhere else.

“I still like you, so I got angry when you reacted the way you did because I felt like you thought I wasn’t cool, or worth your time or whatever, if I didn’t want to do _that_ with you.”  
  


He could hear Kyoutani sigh from above him, but couldn’t bring himself to look up, still worried that Watari might have been wrong and that he was making an even bigger fool of himself right now.

“Do I really seem like someone who would care about that?”

Yahaba shrugged. “No, you don’t. You were so amazing on Saturday. That’s why I was so caught off guard.”

Kyoutani stepped forward so that he stood with his legs on either side of Yahaba’s knees. He reached down, placing a gentle hand on Yahaba’s chin to lift it up as he leaned down, bending over so that he could press their lips together in a gentle kiss.

“I was so mad,” Kyoutani said as he pulled back, taking a step to the side and reaching out to help Yahaba up, “because it felt like you had used my feelings and then discarded me without even really caring. When you wanted to be friends and just move on from our argument, like it didn’t impact you at all, it made me feel even more insignificant to you.”

“So you’re not mad at me for not wanting to smoke with you again?”

“No.”

“And you’re still head over heels for me?”

“I don’t know if I would go that far-”

Yahaba lurched forward before he could finish and wrapped his arms around Kyoutani’s waist, pulling him close and kissing him with all the ferocity he could muster. He was met with an open mouth and wet tongue, Kyouani’s strong arms hooking around his neck so that his head was cradled in his elbows.

It wasn’t like any of the kisses they hads shared on the couch which were slow, languid and sweet. This one felt like a fight, pushing against each other, forcing their frustrations out through the sweet taste of each other’s passion. Yahaba felt caged by Kyoutani’s arms, owned in a way that allowed him to surrender his own ego and indignation and feel nothing except the hot pass of breath between them.

Kyoutani pulled back and Yahaba chased after his lips for a moment, stealing a quick kiss before settling down, arms still wrapped around each other.

“Well, I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions, I should have given you an opportunity to fully explain.”

Yahaba smiled at him and leaned closer. “I know a way that you could make it up to me.”

“Oh?” said Kyoutani with a smirk.

Yahaba hovered his lips over Kyoutani’s mouth and all but whispered, “tell me what you said to Kiyoshi-san about me.”

“Yahaba,” Kyoutani admonished, pulling back, embarrassed.

“Please?”

Kyoutani wriggled out of Yahaba’s embrace. “That’s classified information.”

He didn’t give Yahaba the opportunity to argue, swiftly turning and walking off.

“Wait, where are you going?” 

“Home,” Kyoutani stated plainly, not stopping his stride, but turning back with a playful grin. “Coming with?”

Yahaba couldn’t help but smile as he rushed to Kyoutani’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tik tok](https://www.tiktok.com/@sincerelymarika)


	8. Chapter 8

**2 Months Later**

The frigid, outdoor air quickly dissipated as Kyoutani shut the front door behind him. Yahaba had already removed his shoes and coat, and was in the process of unwinding a long scarf from around his neck. His cheeks were still pink from the cold and when he pulled his beanie off, his hair fell in such disarray that Kyoutani couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the sight.

Yahaba glared at him, retracting the hand he had held out for Kyoutani’s sweater that Kyoutani had just pulled over his head, and instead crossed his arms. “Have something to say?”

“You look handsome as ever, Yahaba.”

Yahaba huffed and brought a hand up to his hair to try and smooth it down, but it was a lost cause. Kyoutani walked next to him, reached across to a hook mounted on the wall and hung his sweater up, leaning in for a quick peck as he did so. 

“I’ve never spent Christmas with anyone before. Today was really nice.”

Yahaba blushed at Kyountai’s words and looked down. After two months of dating, he still wasn’t always used to Kyoutani’s honest words of admiration. It seemed so contrary to the impression he had originally had, sometimes Yahaba found it hard to believe the two of them were in this position at all. He wouldn’t trade it for anything though and smiled up at his boyfriend.

“Well, it’s not over yet.”

He took off, knowing that Kyoutani was following him. They had been over to each other’s respective houses plenty of times, but Yahaba could feel his heart hammering particularly loudly today as they made their way to his room, only slightly apprehensive about what he had planned.

As they crossed the threshold into Yahaba’s bedroom, Kyoutani came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing a firm kiss to the side of his neck. Yahaba twisted in his hold so they were facing each other and kissed him quickly, pulling away when Kyoutani tried to deepen it.

“Wait, I have a surprise,” Yahaba said, reaching over him to push the door shut and then walking to his desk.

“I thought we agreed on no presents? Dinner was enough.”

“I said surprise, not present,” Yahaba all but snapped as he opened the top drawer to his desk.

Kyoutani rolled his eyes. “Right, what was I thinking?”

Yahaba grabbed the surprise from his drawer before shutting it and turning around. He held his right hand beside his face, two rolled joints nestled between his fingers. He could see Kyoutani eye them and waited for him to say something, but he only raised a questioning brow to Yahaba, which caused Yahaba to give an exasperated sigh.

“It’s weed,” Yahaba stated.

“Yeah, I can see that. Why do you have it?”

“Because I thought we could smoke it.”

Yahaba thought he might have broken his boyfriend. For once he found himself unable to read Kyoutani’s expression. It didn’t look like he was about to say anything anytime soon, so Yahaba slowly walked to him, reaching his arm out to briefly fiddle with the v-necked collar of his t-shirt.

He smiled up at Kyoutani and tucked one of the joints behind his ear. “I thought it would be fun to ride you while blazed out of my mind.”

“Jesus, Yahaba,” Kyoutani said, leaning against the door behind him to help support his weight, knees weak and eyes clouded with desire. “I thought you weren’t really into that.”

“Yeah, not every Saturday, but never, _never_. Christmas is a special occasion.”

Yahaba ran his free hand down Kyoutani’s chest until he reached his jeans and angled his fingers so that they could slip into his front pocket and grasp the lighter that he knew Kyoutani always carried. He grazed the hardening length of Kyoutani’s cock through the fabric of his jeans as he withdrew, smiling when the boy beneath him shuddered at the touch.

Yahaba brought the joint up to his lips and flicked the lighter on. He brought the flame just shy of the wrapped paper before pausing and killing the fire.

“Unless you don’t want to.” Yahaba’s words were slightly muffled as his lips gripped the joint. 

Kyoutani licked his lips. “I want.”

Yahaba preened. He may have been a pro at seducing Kyoutani now, but he still felt out of his depths when it came to anything weed related. He hadn’t smoked since his first time with Kyoutani, and had basically received a crash course from Iwaizumi a week ago when he called him to ask about getting the joints for this surprise. Yahaba was glad he was able to pull off some semblance of competency. 

He re-lit the lighter and touched it to the end of his joint, watching the paper catch as he inhaled. The sharp, dry smoke was both familiar and foreign, scratching at Yahaba’s throat as he filled his lungs. He reigned in a cough and could feel his eyes water from the exertion, but he was hyper aware of Kyoutani’s rapt gaze so with as controlled a movement as he could muster, Yahaba turned to the side and exhaled, expelling most of the smoke before coughing into the crook of his elbow.

He looked over and found Kyoutani smiling at him.

“You’re so cute.”

Instead of replying, Yahaba let out another cough.

Kyoutani laughed, and reached forward, pulling him in for a light kiss.

“I’ll get you some water,” he said and Yahaba watched him turn and quickly leave the room. 

Yahaba looked down at the joint between his fingers and brought it up to his lips again, not bothering to censor his coughs this time around. The taste was skill musky and foul and he wondered how Kyoutani ever developed a palate for it. 

He walked over to his bed and sat on the floor in front of it, back leaning against the solid wood frame, knees bent. He took a third pull and Kyoutani came back, water in hand, right as he coughed it up.

“And people ask how I’m attracted to you.”

“Shut up,” Yahaba said with no bite.

Kyoutani walked over to his desk and pulled the extra joint from behind his ear, setting it down, before making his way to Yahaba. He sat in front of him and sandwiched his legs between Yahaba’s, holding out the water. Yahaba gratefully took it, trading him the joint that was in his hand. He was reminded of Kyoutani bringing him water back at Hanamaki’s place, and he flushed at the memory. The newness of having Kyoutani so close, and the feeling of absolute naivety, not too far removed from how he still felt now.

“It’s embarrassing,” Yahaba mumbled, watching as Kyoutani took a perfect drag of the joint, a smirk adorning his face.

He exhaled out the side of his mouth. “Yeah, a lot of you is, but what are you talking about specifically?”

Yahaba huffed. “The coughing.” 

Kyoutani laughed again. “It’s not embarrassing, it’s part practice and part luck. We all cough sometimes.”

“Feels embarrassing,” Yahaba grumbled with a pout.

“I thought we were past feeling embarrassed over stupid shit.”

He cupped Yahaba’s face, forcing him to look up and Yahaba gave a begrudging sigh at himself, fisting his hands in Kyoutani’s shirt to tug him forward.

“It’s not fair. You look so good smoking. I never thought it was attractive, but every time I’ve seen you smoke, I get so fucking hot for you. I wanted to be the one to seduce you this time.”

“You were, I could barely think straight when you had me backed up against the door.”

“Yeah, and that facade came crumbling down the moment I actually lit up and inhaled.”

“Yahaba,” Kyoutani said softly, leaning in to place a gentle kiss against him, “you enthrall me every time you take charge, with me, with the team, it doesn’t matter. Sometimes you say something scathing and I just want you to rail me immediately.”

Yahaba blushed and tried to look down, but Kyoutani held his chin firmly in place, forced to watch as Kyoutani brought the joint up for another hit, chest swelling with his breath. He leaned past Yahaba to his desk and tapped the burnt ash off on a glass coaster. He brought the joint between them again, this time holding it to Yahaba’s mouth.

Yahaba closed his eyes as he felt the paper touch his lips, parting them slightly and stealing another pull. His throat still felt raw and the burn was worse this time, irritating his larynx. He leaned forward, falling into Kyoutani’s chest and coughed downward. The sudden motion made his head feel light and he became aware of the weightlessness of his limbs.

“So you’re not a vixen when you smoke.”

Yahaba could feel Kyoutani take another hit off the joint above him, causing him to pause his sentence. His head followed the fall of Kyoutani’s chest as he exhaled and Yahaba vaguely thought that he might never get the smell of weed out of his room after today.

“You don’t have to be. You’re hot ninety percent of the rest of the time. Let this be my thing.”

Yahaba lifted his head as Kyoutani moved to tap off the ash once more. He was able to see the sincerity in his expression as Kyoutani spoke.

“I like that it gets you so flustered. It’s cute.” He raised the fingers holding the joint, “do you want any more?”

Yahaba shook his head, continuing the action for seconds longer than he would have otherwise, relishing the buzz it gave him. 

Kyoutani took one last pull, then stubbed it out and left the roach standing on the coaster before turning back to Yahaba and cradling his jaw in his hands to kiss him deeply. Yahaba sighed into his lips, enjoying the plush, wet feel of Kyoutani’s tongue against his own. They’ve kissed countless times, but he’ll never take the caress of Kyoutani’s mouth for granted, enjoying the libations of his taste.

Yahaba groaned and yanked Kyoutani towards him by his shirt, causing Kyoutani to lose balance and crash into Yahaba’s face. Koutani dropped a hand to the floor to steady himself and pushed up so that he hovered slightly above Yahaba, brow raised.

“A bit overeager.”

Yahaba shrugged. “My decision making skills aren’t all here right now, cut me some slack.”

Kyoutani chuckled and stood up, pulling his tee over his head, Yahaba appreciating the reveal of Kyoutani’s cut abs, admiring the way his arms flexed as he dropped the rumbled shirt to the floor. He wet his lips, looking up at Kyoutani and reaching his arms up for assistance standing.

“Lazy,” Kyoutani huffed, pulling Yahaba to his feet.

Yahaba kissed him again, reaching down to fiddle at the waistband of his jeans, purposely skimming his fingers across Kyoutani’s lower stomach before popping the button and pulling at the zipper. He pushed Kyoutani's pants and underwear down at the same time, leaving him fully naked, save his socks.

Kyoutani stepped out of his clothing and Yahaba turned him around so that he could push Kyoutani down onto his bed.

“I find you oddly attractive with socks on,” Yahaba said, watching Kyoutani lightly bounce as he made contact with the mattress. 

“You’re supposed to find your boyfriend attractive no matter what they’re wearing. Ah- stop,” Kyoutani said, raising a hand to prevent Yahaba from crawling onto the bed with him. “You’re wearing too much clothing to get on here with me.”

Yahaba smirked and backed up, carding a hand through his hair, practically preening. “How many items do I have to remove before being allowed to join you?”

He felt hot under Kyoutani’s gaze which slowly traveled up and down his form.

“Four pieces.”

Yahaba undid the clasp of his jeans and shimmied them down his legs, kicking them to the side to join Kyoutani’s shirt. “One,” he counted, elongating the syllable.

He nimbly brought his left foot up behind him as if stretching before practice, whipping off a sock. “Two.”

He repeated the action with his other leg. “Three.”

“The socks count as one piece,” Kyoutani said from where he had perched himself on the bed, back leaning against the wall, legs unabashedly spread in front of him.

Yahaba smirked. “I don’t think so.”

He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear, slowly pulling them down, and then stood up straight, clad only in his casual button-up.

“Four.”

Yahaba walked to the edge of the bed and leaned forward, trailing his hands lightly over Kyoutani’s shins, tracing the edge where his socks stopped. “Am I allowed on now?”

“Hmm,” Kyoutani pretended to think, tilting his head slightly, “I think four more buttons.”

“Two,” Yahaba countered.

“Three.”

“Deal, but only if you undo them yourself.”

Kyoutani smiled. “I think I can manage that. Come up here,” he said, smoothing his hand across his lap.

Yahaba climbed onto the bed, knees sinking into the mattress as he straddled Kyoutani’s legs. He settled so that he was seated atop Kyoutani’s firm thighs, his balls resting against Kyoutani’s skin. The tails of his shirt skimmed over Yahaba’s erection, obscuring the head from view, the light sensation of fabric agonizingly tantalizing. 

He closed his eyes and tilted his head back as he let Kyoutani’s fingers work three buttons through their loops, leaving two done up, just enough to keep the shirt together, immodestly covering his torso.

Kyoutani’s hands ran up his arms and he could feel the heat of his palms through the sleeves.

“You doing okay?” Kyoutani asked.

“I’m good. Light and heavy at the same time.”

Yahaba gave a slow roll of his hips as he shifted forward to rest his arms against Kyoutani’s shoulders, his head drooping low so that he could mouth the skin beneath his ear. Yahaba’s breaths came in loud pants and Kyoutani groaned, hands settling on Yahaba’s hips to pull him closer so they were rutting against each other.

“This feels nice,” Yahaba murmured, still lavishing his tongue over the same spot on Kyoutani’s neck, occasionally lightly tugging at his lobe or licking around it.

He fell into a lazy grind, not enough pressure to rile them up, but enough to stimulate a hazy pleasure that had their cocks leaking, precome mixing as it rolled down their shafts and smeared between their balls.

Kyoutani slipped his hands beneath Yahaba’s shirt, feeling the planes of his back, spreading his fingers out and pressing into his skin. Yahaba loved the feeling of his calloused hands, rough in all the spots that turned red after he would spike a ball. He loved the way Kyoutani’s body managed to fully wrap around him, encompassing his frame, making him shudder under his touch.

He moved his lips to kiss Kyoutani, slow and sloppy, tongues tasting the familiar nectar of each other’s mouths. Yahaba’s hands buried themselves in Kyoutani’s hair, fingertips running along his scalp to pull him even closer, opening his mouth wider to let all of Kyoutani in. 

Kissing Kyoutani was still magical. The heady haze of lust and high deliciously clouded his senses until the only thing he could feel was Kyoutani at every point of his body. He sighed, blissful. Power thrummed through Kyoutani, and Yahaba was heady at having it completely devoted to him.

His shirt slipped, exposing his left shoulder and Kyoutani quickly ducked down to pepper the exposed flesh with kisses. Yahaba’s grip tightened on his head, causing Kyoutani to growl and playfully nip at his collarbone.

“Fuck me,” Yahaba whispered.

“You have to get up so I can get the lube.”

“Don’t wanna move,” Yahaba petulantly murmured, adding a hissed, “ _fuck_ ,” as his dick slipped though a pool of precome that had gathered on Kyoutani’s abdomen.

Kyoutani brought his hand down, scratching lightly at Yahaba’s back as he moved. He slipped his finger between his cheeks and ran it over Yahaba’s puckered hole, lightly pressing, without pushing in. 

“That’s too bad, because I was really looking forward to seeing how many fingers I could work you up to before you get too needy for my cock.”

Yahaba whimpered and ground against his hand momentarily before falling slightly to the side, slipping off Kyoutani’s lap and lying with his back on the bed.

He made a lewd display, one knee bent so that he was fully exposed, shirt rucked up so the bottom of his stomach showed. He could feel Kyoutani’s eyes on him as he leaned over Yahaba to the bedside table where they kept a small tube in the back of a drawer.

He shifted so that the wet head of Kyoutani’s dick glided against his thigh as he retreated, lube in hand.

“I can tell you’re doing that on purpose,” Kyoutani said with a wicked smile, settling back into his previous, seated position.

Yahaba ran his hands up his own chest, rumpling his shirt even more, lightly skimming over his nipples before sliding them back down, one hand massaging at his balls.

“Is it working?” he asked.

“Always.”

Yahaba continued to fondle his sack, occasionally running a finger up his shaft, or pressing against his perineum. He rubbed his pinky through the thin trail of precome Kyoutani had left on his thigh, and brought the digit up to his mouth to suck on.

Kyoutani gave an exaggerated sigh and uncapped the lube, squeezing an ample amount on his hand. “I thought I was going to get to use this on you.” He looked over at Yahaba and reached down to grip his own cock, coating it in lube and slowly stroking up and down. “Guess I’ll have to take care of myself.”

Yahaba whined and pulled himself up, clumsily crawling back into Kyoutani’s lap, batting away his hand to replace it with his own. “You never play fair,” he pouted, leaning in for a kiss.

“I learned it from you,” Kyoutani replied as he pressed lightly against Yahaba’s mouth.

Kyoutani applied more lube to his fingers and then reached behind Yahaba, gently prodding at his rim. He was relaxed and it was easy for Kyoutani to press a digit in, but he kept his thrusts shallow, teasing Yahaba with quick thrusts and little massages, building up his desperation.

Yahaba’s head collapsed against Kyoutani’s shoulder again, nose nestled in the crook of his neck, eyes closed. He panted warm breaths against his skin, letting out little hums and mewls as Kyoutani toyed with him. His body ached for Kyoutani, but he was content to bask in every small movement, letting his pleasure slowly build.

It was hard to focus and Yahaba could feel the tempo of his strokes against Kyoutani’s cock stuttering as Kyoutani’s finger inched deeper and deeper inside of him. He circled his hips, hoping to grind further down on his hand, but Kyoutani would diligently retreat with each movement, pulling whimpers from Yahaba’s mouth. 

Yahaba could tell he was more pliable than normal, more content to relax into Kyoutani’s ministrations and relinquish complete control. His high was calming him, tampering his need to push things quickly along.

Kyoutani must have been thinking similarly because he chuckled as he pressed a second finger in, softly kissing the side of Yahaba’s head. “I’m not used to seeing you so agreeable.”

“Shut the fuck up Kyoutani and let me enjoy this,” Yahaba huffed without malice.

Kyoutani crooked his fingers to press against his prostate, causing a small groan to be let out. “There’s the feisty captain I know and love.”

“Careful, that’s dangerously close to an _I love you_.”

Kyoutani scissored his fingers in Yahaba, rubbing and caressing the furl of his rim as he slid out and in. “I do love you.”

“ _Kyoutani,_ ” Yahaba whined, pulling back to look at him, opening his heavy, lidded eyes to gaze into his boyfriend’s. “That’s not how you’re supposed to confess.”

“I thought it was obvious,” Kyoutani bit back with a scowl.

Yahaba couldn’t help but laugh at his furrowed eyebrows, bringing up his index finger to press the wrinkles away, a common gesture now for the two of them. He slid his hand down to cup at Kyoutani’s cheek and pulled him close so that he was a whisper away from his lips.

“I love you too.”

“I know.”

Yahaba dropped his hands and leaned away. “You’re an unromantic asshole- ahh!” he called out as Kyoutani’s fingers danced over his prostate, pressing further, encouraged by Yahaba’s vocal response.

Yahaba curled into himself and Kyoutani quickly caught his lips, licking his way into his mouth, swallowing every moan and mewl caused by his shifting fingers. Yahaba’s hips began fervently pushing back against his hand and Kyoutani teased a third finger at his hole, just barely pushing in.

“ _Kyoutani,_ ” Yahaba exalted in a breathy sigh, never pulling back from the kiss they were sharing.

“Yes?”

Kyoutani’s third finger retreated to stroke against Yahaba’s taint while he worked the others deep.

Yahaba gave an unhappy whine and pressed his entire body closer to Kyoutani, biting at his lip as he continued to drink his fill of Kyoutani’s kiss.

Their cocks slid against each other again, slotted perfectly in the divots of their hips, slick from precome and the excess lube that Kyoutani had slathered on himself. Yahaba could imagine the flushed red shaft and head of Kyoutani, could practically see the pearls of slick gathering at his slit, but he didn’t want to break their kiss to look. Instead, he reached his hand back down, loosely stroking Kyoutani, lightly drumming his fingers against his head with every upstroke.

He paused and pressed his thumb against Kyoutani’s frenulum, making small circles as he did so. “Kyoutani, don’t play.”

Kyoutani brought his finger back to Yahaba’s rim, grazing it against his skin. “You want it?”

“Yes,” Yahaba moaned, thrusting down while tightening his hold on Kyoutani’s dick.

Kyoutani spread the two fingers ensconced in Yahaba, but still didn’t let the third one slip alongside them, barely nudging his opening, touching him and pulling back.

“Kyoutani, get inside me,” Yahaba said with an edge to his voice.

“I am inside you,” he responded, wiggling his buried fingers.

Yahaba finally broke their kiss to glare down at Kyoutani’s faux innocent face. “Put that third finger you’ve been teasing me with inside me, _now Kyoutani_.”

“Yes Captain,” Kyoutani panted, finally allowing Yahaba to feel the stretch of three fingers pressed wide against his loosening walls.

Yahaba’s hand fell from Kyoutani’s cock, gripping against his thigh instead, his other arm braced against his shoulder. His eyes screwed shut as he settled down against Kyoutani’s hand and surrendered control over to him. His body felt alive, fully aware of each movement made, unable to focus on anything else.

Yahaba took heavy breaths, his chest heaving with exertion and arousal. His cock was rock hard against his abdomen, leaking steadily, sullying his shirt. He was flushed and sweaty, and could feel the fabric sticking to him, but Kyoutani started licking along the placket, half his tongue sliding against hot skin and half muted by cotton.

Kyoutani nosed at his shirt until it slipped even further down his arm, exposing a pec, and immediately covered his nipple with his mouth, lavishing the puckered skin with long strokes of his tongue. Kyoutani traced his muscles with his lips, never once faltering with the movements of his hand, emboldened by the way Yahaba twitched as he continued exploring his chest, biting along his collarbone or kissing at his neck.

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” Kyoutani muttered and Yahaba shuddered at his words.

Kyoutani pressed as far in as his fingers would let him, then pulled out nearly completely, repeating the pumping motion at an achingly slow pace, taking time to knead against Yahaba’s prostate for brief moments, savoring the twitches and contractions against his hand.

“You’re so responsive, I love it.”

He shoved his fingers deep and Yahaba called out with a broken, “ah,” face alight with ecstasy. 

“I love you,” Kyoutani said, a bit softer, subdued and sobering, relaxing his movements to a gentle caress, coaxing Yahaba to look at him, bringing his free hand up to stroke at Yahaba’s cheek.

“I love you,” he repeated, looking straight into Yahaba’s eyes.

Yahaba practically fell forward in his haste to kiss Kyoutani, a brief but firm press of lips before pulling back with a wide grin, taking time to let his eyes roam over his gorgeous, gorgeous boyfriend. He flattened his palms against Kyoutani’s abs where he traced over every divot in his skin, unable to shake the smile from his lips, awed that his teammate he despised mere months ago had become someone he treasured so dearly.

“What?” Kyoutani asked, nudging his leg against Yahaba’s while sporting a blush at his scrutiny. 

“Oh, just imagining what the first years would think if they could see you like this, sappy and sweet. I think Kindaichi would faint.”

“Ten minutes ago you called me unromantic,” Kyoutani deadpanned.

Yahaba shrugged. “I changed my mind.”

“You’re obnoxious.” 

“It turns you on,” Yahaba countered, stretching his arms up above his head, his shirt riding up to fully expose his cock and the backdrop of his stomach, before dropping them down, letting the fabric preserve his modesty.

He looked up to find Kyoutani’s gaze trained on his torso and smirked. “No comeback? Told you.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think there was any room for my opinion next to your ego.”

Yahaba chuckled and cuddled in against his chest so that his head rested against Kyoutani’s shoulder, nose pillowed against his neck. Yahaba’s movements caused Kyoutani’s fingers to shift pleasantly inside him.

“Say it to me again?”

Kyoutani brought his free hand up to stroke gently through Yahaba’s hair. “I love you,” he practically whispered, wearing a matching smile. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

Yahaba let himself bask in the simple moment, enjoying the light scrape of Kyoutani’s nails against his scalp and the gentle movements in and out against his rim. He let himself be taken in completely by Kytountai, just for a moment, before straightening up and grabbing the discarded bottle of lube from beside them and drizzling the gooey substance over Kyoutani’s erection.

“Ah, Yahaba,” Kyotani hissed, as a mess of lube coated his cock and surrounding skin, “that’s fucking cold and you got it all over me.”

Yahaba shrugged and ran his hand against Kyoutani’s slick skin, thoroughly smearing it across his shaft and head, making sure every inch was coated. Kyoutani’s abdomen and balls glistened with the excess but Yahaba thought it was a good look and traced a heart in the mess against his skin, doubtful that Kyoutani even noticed the pattern.

Yahaba rose to his knees and felt Kyoutani place a kiss on his sternum as he did so, fingers falling free of him. He smiled down at Kyoutani and grabbed his shaft, placing it between his cheeks so that it slipped against his hole as he began to settle back. He watched Kyoutani’s mouth part, watched little pants escape his lips and felt prideful at the blissed out expression he was causing.

He circled his hips so that Kyoutani’s head caught on his rim, repeating the motion until he was desperate for it himself, finally sinking down on his cock and letting it fill him fully. 

“Fuck,” Kyoutani uttered, voice breathy, eyes shut, “fuck Yahaba.”

Kyoutani gently thrust up, fully sheathing himself, fully feeling Yahaba’s tight heat, before dropping his hips back onto the bed and grinning up at Yahaba, giving a light slap to his ass.

“C’mon, you were the one that said you wanted to ride me.”

Yahaba raised a brow. “You wanna try that again?” he asked, starting to thrust slowly against Kyotani regardless.

“Giddy up?”

“Shut up,” Yahaba said as he fell into a rhythm, braced by Kyoutani’s hands on his back as he bounced up and down.

“Yes Captain.”

“Stop calling me that in bed.”

“Just practicing.”

“Do I need to fucking gag you?”

Kyoutani smirked. “That’s an idea.”

“Just shut up and let me enjoy this.”

“It seems like you already are,” Kyoutani drawled as he snaked one of his arms towards Yahaba’s front and gripped his shaft firmly, starting a rhythm that matched his strokes to the tempo Yahaba was moving at.

His hand had leftover lube from when he had been fingering Yahaba, so his fingers slipped easily against his cock, easy to switch his movements, palming the tip at every upstroke, occasionally sliding lower to cup and fondle at his balls. Yahaba was fucking into Kyoutani’s hand as much as he was fucking back against his cock. His skin felt like it was on fire, every touch from Kyoutani leaving trails of heat behind. 

Kyoutani shifted forward to kiss against his jaw and down his neck. Yahaba chuckled and pushed against his shoulders.

“Stop,” Yahaba said playfully and a bit breathless, “I can’t move well while you’re at this angle.”

Kyoutani bit down on his exposed shoulder, just hard enough to leave imprints on his skin, and Yahaba let a broken moan permeate the air. Kyoutani’s tongue traced the mark. It was extra sensitive and Yahaba’s hips bucked in response, Kyoutani’s cock sliding completely in, pulling another moan from Yahaba.

Yahaba felt full and good, and with a surge of want, shoved Kyoutani so his back thudded against the wall. Yahaba braced his weight on his arm across Kyoutani’s chest and began to ride him in earnest, rolling his hips so that every time they came together, the loud slap of skin echoed through the room. 

Yahaba’s breaths came quick. His thighs ached with exertion, but it was worth it to hear the mewls escaping Kyoutani’s mouth. Soon, Kyoutani’s hips began thrusting up to meet his movements and their pace picked up. They fucked into each other, Yahaba relishing the drag of skin inside him, the way the slight curve of Kyoutani’s cock would slide against his prostate before slamming in.

“You feel amazing,” Kyoutani gasped.

“You feel better, _fuck_. You’re so big, I love the way you fill me.”

Yahaba could feel Kyoutani’s fingers falter on his dick before bringing them to his hips, gripping onto Yahaba tightly and taking control of their rhythm, giving reprieve to Yahaba’s legs, taking his pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck fuck,” Kyoutani began to chant under his breath as his thrusts became firmer and more direct, Yahaba’s hands locked behind Kyoutani’s neck, arms on his shoulders for balance. His body rocked forward with the force that Kyoutani slammed into him with.

Yahaba bent down so their noses were slotted together, eyes closed, warm breath on each other’s lips, but he didn’t have the faculty to kiss, to control his movements, just hovering there to taste Kyoutani’s expletives.

“You close?” Yahaba asked, voice low.

Kyoutani could only manage a strangled, “mmhm,”

“I can tell. You get aggressive. It’s so fucking hot.”

Kyoutani’s fingers tightened on his hips, whining, as Yahaba trailed his mouth over to his ear, licking at the shell and conch, trying to trace each curve, but the jolts from Kyoutani’s movements caused him to lack precision.

Kyoutani shifted, slightly slouching more, so that he was able to thrust precisely, able to use his legs to put more power behind each lunge, and Yahaba could do nothing else but moan into his ear, teeth scraping against his jaw bone without biting down.

Hearing Yahaba’s cry brought Kyoutani over the edge, pushing himself completely inside, holding Yahaba against him as he shot ropes of come, letting out a ragged groan, breathing heavily. Yahaba’s skin buzzed with pleasure and he lighty ground against Kyoutani, watching his muscles twitch as he became more sensitive.

Yahaba stilled as Kyoutani’s hand once more returned to his cock. He started to stroke Yahaba, working his hard, flushed skin as best he could, twisting at his wrist and lavishing attention at every spot that made Yahaba whimper. He sped up and soon Yahaba was gasping Kyoutani’s name as spurts of come spattered over Kyoutani’s chest, mingling with the dried sweat and lube that he was already covered with.

Yahaba wasted no time leaning forward to kiss him, pressing their chests together, sullying his shirt so that it was sticky and wet with mess. Yahaba couldn’t tell if it was his orgasm or his high that kept his thoughts hazy or his body lethargic, but he desperately kissed at Kyoutani’s lips, grounding himself with the sweet taste of his boyfriend’s mouth.

“Sit up,” Kyoutani mumbled, and Yahaba shuffled back before raising himself high, Kyoutani slipping out of him as he stood straight on his knees.

He could feel the come slowly start to slide out of him, could feel Kyoutani’s hands grab at his ass cheeks to pry them further apart, eyes trained on his puffy hole.

“You’re disgusting,” he said, blushing as Kyoutani got closer, finger trailing up his perineum where come had begun to run.

“What did you say earlier? Shut up and let me enjoy this?”

He pushed the pooling jizz back into Yahaba and used it to slick his fingers, sliding two into his hole to push around the come still inside. He was gentle in his movements, careful not to overstimulate Yahaba’s flesh, and although Yahaba would never admit it out loud, having Kyoutani’s fingers soothingly stroke at his insides after an orgasm was one of his favorite ways to come down.

Yahaba collapsed to the side, backwards against the bed, settling his head against his pillow, Kyoutani’s fingers falling free as he did so.

“I didn’t realise you were such a pervert when I started dating you,” Yahaba teased, but spoke his words with a smile, spreading his legs invitingly.

Kyoutani crawled towards him, settling himself between Yahaba’s thighs, looking up. It was his turn to blush at Yahaba’s words as he slid Yahaba’s legs over his shoulders.

Kyoutani gave a half shrug. “You look hot like this.”

“I look hot, always.”

Kyoutani licked a broad stripe up his crack, over his hole, lapping at every smear of fluid against his skin. Yahaba sighed and relaxed into the soft probing of Kyoutani’s tongue against his rim, let himself enjoy the gentle thrusts massaging into him.

He felt like he was melting into the bed, the soft plush of his comforter cradling him. Kyoutani’s breath was hot and just the right amount of stimulating and soothing, nose pressed against his taint as Kyoutani buried his face deeper, mouth exploring every crevice of Yahaba’s messy body.

Yahaba unbuttoned the last two of his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders as best he could manage without disturbing Kyoutani, and shoved it off the side of his bed, leaving his chest bare.

Yahaba had no sense of time. It could have been a minute or an hour that Kyoutani spent between his thighs before he had his fill, pulling back and guiding Yahaba’s legs gently back down to the bed and sliding up so that his head was pillowed on Yahaba’s chest. He traced designs into Yahaba’s pec, watching it twitch occasionally at his touch.

“That tickles,” Yahaba muttered, nudging his side.

Kyoutani stilled his hand, palm flat. “Sorry.”

“S’okay.”

Kyoutani looked up at him, and Yahaba looked down, tilting his head in order to see Kyoutani’s face completely. Another well of emotion washed over him that he tamped down, entirely sure he used up his quota of sap for the day.

“How was it?” Kyoutani asked, voice low and soft.

“Good,” Yahaba said, nestling closer to him. “The high was nice, it kind of took the thoughts out of my mind and I could just feel.”

Yahaba dipped down and kissed him. It was an awkward angle, his neck cricked forward, and he quickly fell back against the pillow again.

“Calling me disgusting, but kissing me afterwards is kind of hypocritical,” Kyoutani said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yahaba dismissed. “I’ve swallowed worse.”

“Fuck you, my come is not worse than yours.”

“Hmm, maybe I need a refresher than.”

“I think you need a new brain.”

Yahaba laughed and kicked at Kyoutani, wiggling his way out of his grasp. “C’mon, I want a bath.”

“Shower first,” Kyoutani grumbled, rolling out of bed after Yahaba.

Yahaba opened his wardrobe to grab a spare set of sleepwear for the two of them, looking over at Kyoutani who was fiddling with the untouched joint he had discarded on his desk. He took a moment to admire his lithe form, snickering slightly at the socks that still covered his feet.

“Yahaba, are you sure your parents are out for the night?”

“Yeah, they’re not coming back until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.”

Kyoutani picked up the joint and looked at him. “We could finish this off in the bath. I promise it’s a life changing experience. Plus the humidity will help”

Yahaba smiled. “Sure, just don’t let me drown.”

“I’d never.”

Yahaba walked over to him, chest swelling with affection. He threw his arms around Kyoutani and pulled him close. “Hey, guess what?”

“What?”

Yahaba grinned and gripped tightly onto his shirt. “You love me.”

“Barely.”

“You _love_ me,” Yahaba insisted.

Kyoutani let out a suffering sigh, but smiled back. “I do. I really love you.”

“And I love you back.”

“I sure as shit hope so.”

“Don’t be vulgar,” Yahaba huffed.

“You love it.”

Yahaba pressed a quick kiss against his cheek. “I sure as shit do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feels so good to be done!! Thank you for the comments and kudos, they're always much appreciated. <3
> 
> [tik tok](https://www.tiktok.com/@sincerelymarika)


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